


Das Haus aus Wachs

by Rose_of_Pollux



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Genre: Canon-typical peril, Gen, some things are NOT what they seem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 11:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5927047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A warning for Nimrod's safety brings the Heroes to a new wax museum in Hammelburg to protect the elusive agent, as well as try to determine the agent's identity. But there is a deeper, more sinister plot going on, putting them all in great danger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two Messages

**Author's Note:**

> The characters aren't mine, and the story is! I've had this story idea for a long time and finally got to it; it is inspired by/a follow-up of an episode, but to say which one would be a spoiler. The quest to find Nimrod's identity will be a part of the plot, and though the story focuses on the team as a whole, expect a little limelight to be given to my favorite corporals now and again…

It started off as a quiet day in Barracks 2, but most days that ended up harrowing often started out that way. This one was no exception. LeBeau was by the stove, trying to see what magic he could cast to turn the meager pile of lunch fixings and K-rations he had to work with into a gourmet meal. Hogan sat at the table in his office, in deep thought as he stared almost unblinkingly at a map of Bavaria, silently mapping out new escape routes and dropoff points for upcoming missions. Newkirk was proceeding to trounce Carter at gin for the umpteenth time as Olsen sat nearby, keeping score.

Kinch was also at the table, absorbed in a book, though he frequently looked up to watch the gin games, which were proving to be just as entertaining as the book. London had told them to lay low for some time as there had been a lot of activity in the Hammelburg area as of late, so it had been very slow in regards to missions being handed out to them. That was also the reason why Kinch was spending time away from his radio, so it was a surprise to him when Baker, who had been in the tunnels to keep an eye on the radio just in case, emerged from the bunk bed trapdoor with a slip of paper in his hand.

"You're not going to believe this!" Baker said, handing the slip to Kinch. "Sent via our emergency code!"

The staff sergeant accepted the paper from his apprentice, his eyes widening with every word he read as Baker retreated back to the radio room in case another message came in.

"Colonel!" Kinch exclaimed.

Not only did this bring Hogan out of his office, but it also drew the attention of LeBeau, Newkirk, Carter, and Olsen; something was up, and, ten to one, it would be directly involving them somehow.

"Orders from London?" Hogan asked.

Kinch shook his head.

"They're… not from London at all. And it's not an order, either. It's more of a personal message, written just for you. Just listen to this: 'My Dear Colonel, I know that you and I have come face-to-face several times, but it has always been without you realizing who I truly am. Given the lull in orders from London, I feel this is the proper time for us to come face-to-face again, but, this time, not as how we appear to the world, but as our true selves—Papa Bear and Nimrod.'"

Kinch paused to allow for the exclamations—and he was not disappointed. Carter was intrigued and excited, LeBeau had his eyes narrowed in suspicion, Newkirk's gaze was shifting everywhere, and Olsen just shook his head in disbelief. Only Hogan remained silent, his brow furrowed in deep thought. Eventually, he held up a hand to quiet the others, allowing Kinch to continue.

"'If I know you as well as I do, you are highly dubious about this arrangement. I, for one, do not blame you in the slightest. I am currently trying to figure out what the best place to meet would be—the Stalag would, obviously, have its risks, given the nature of this meeting. Also, it would be up to you entirely as to whether or not you would wish to come to this meeting alone. I know that you would be reluctant to bring your men along and put them in possible danger, should this be a trap; I wouldn't be surprised if that possibility has crossed your mind by now—in fact, I would expect it of you, after that incident with Major Hegel. I will not try to convince you that I am sincere; I know that to do so would be futile. If you would prefer an arrangement at the Stalag, I would have to go along with that. I shall leave the place of our meeting to you entirely, should you wish to meet me face-to-face; use the emergency frequency to contact me. Until we meet again. Nimrod.'"

The conversation all but erupted after that among the enlisted men.

"It is certain to be a trap, _Mon Colonel_!" LeBeau insisted. "I feel that we should ignore it!"

"But it could be on the level!" Carter countered. "How else did this guy know about the Hegel incident? Hegel was a loner; he only worked with that Mata Hari milkmaid, and then he killed her!"

"Yeah, but 'ow did Nimrod find out about it?" Newkirk pointed out. "I think I'm with Louis on this one; it's all too dodgy, if you ask me."

"Well, hold on," said Carter. "We know that from last time, the real Nimrod can come and go from this camp as he pleases; it wouldn't be too hard for someone like that to know about the Hegel incident."

"And we never did figure out how he slipped those plans into Hilda's desk," Olsen added.

"Or how _she_ slipped those plans into the desk," Newkirk said. "For all we know, Fraulein 'ilda is Nimrod and she put those plans in the desk 'erself."

"You mean you _wish_ she is Nimrod," LeBeau said, dropping his serious expression long enough to smirk at the Englishman.

"Don't pretend that you don't wish it, too," Newkirk countered. "Besides that—"

"Hold it!" Hogan said, speaking at last. He proceeded as the others fell silent. "You all have made valid points. On the one hand, it would be foolish to go charging into this. On the other hand, if this is on the level—and I mean _if_ —we could be more efficient if we knew who Nimrod was and could work with him or her. Now, then… Who did we have for our list of Nimrod candidates?"

"Anyone who came in or out of the Kommandantur that time Klink was taken by Wagner's brother," Kinch said, opening a secret panel in the wall and pulling out a small notebook. "That narrowed it down to Burkhalter, Hochstetter, Schultz, Hilda, and Klink himself. And then we also added Langenscheidt to that list after we found out that he had been on patrol outside the Kommandantur."

"Six names," Hogan murmured, more to himself than the others. "Six names, and we don't even have so much as a clue to rule out any of them."

"Well, I say it can't be 'ochstetter," Newkirk said. "That barmy fool tries to 'ave us thrown in one of 'is prison cells any chance 'e gets."

"It could be an act," Carter said. "I mean… Nimrod would have to be really convincing in order to divert suspicion from himself. Maybe Hochstetter's threats are all talk to keep up the charade."

"That's one heck of a charade," Kinch deadpanned. "Come to think of it, if Schultz is Nimrod, that's one heck of a charade, too, for a different reason. Sure, he's pleasant towards us, but if he's really smarter than he lets on, that is quite an act."

"And then there's Burkhalter," Olsen said. "He's got the rank to get all the top secrets, and he can go wherever he wants without raising questions."

" _Non_!" LeBeau hissed. "If he was Nimrod, then he would not have endorsed the theft of _The Boy With the Fife_ from Paris! I refuse to believe that someone on our side would do such a thing—even to look convincing!"

"Easy, LeBeau," Hogan said. "And why can't we rule out Langenscheidt?"

"Because he's so quiet and unlikely to be observed (even by us), he could easily be trying to help us without our realizing it," Kinch finished, closing the notebook.

Baker chose that moment to suddenly emerge from the trapdoor again with another slip of paper in his hand.

"Another message from Nimrod?" Hogan asked.

"No, but it's related to Nimrod's message," Baker said. "It's from code name Mother Gothel, and it came in on the normal frequency and with the normal code. And it was definitely sent by a different hand."

He handed the message to Hogan.

"'Papa Bear, I am a member of Intelligence just arrived from London a few weeks ago. I have managed to procure employment in a new wax museum in Hammelburg; the museum is not yet open to the public, but, later this evening, a preview of the exhibits will be given to our invitees and any guests they care to bring along. Having been in London for so long, I can tell you that one of the guests will be Nimrod, but I have reason to believe that he will be in danger if he attends. Please relay, if you can, a warning to Nimrod not to attend. Regards, from Mother Gothel.'"

Hogan threw the paper down onto the table in frustration.

"Great. Just great," he said. "This Mother Gothel is telling us this, assuming we know who Nimrod is."

"So, can't we just tell them that we don't know?" Carter asked. "Maybe they can tell us what we've been trying to figure out here."

"No; it could be a probe by someone who has broken our code to find out how much we know about Nimrod," Hogan said. "Or it could be someone hired by the person who sent the previous message as Nimrod in order to make it seem more legitimate. …On the other hand, it could be legitimate— _both_ messages."

"So, what do we do?" Kinch asked.

"Well, for one thing, we absolutely do not send a reply to either of those messages, just to be safe in the event that there's a radio detection truck parked nearby," Hogan said. "What we will do is have one of us go down to that museum tonight—heavily disguised, of course—to keep an eye on things."

"But what if it is a trap, and whoever set it suspects that we'd send a man there—then what?" Olsen asked. "All they need to do is hold an emergency roll call, and our man has had it."

"Then we stuff Schultz full of strudel and start praying that he'll cover for us," Hogan said.

"And what if Schultz is, in fact, Nimrod, and he's there at the wax museum?" Kinch asked. "All the strudel in the world won't help us then."

Hogan now removed his hat and started running his fingers through his hair in frustration. This was all so much, and so sudden, as well.

"Then we get someone from the Hammelburg Underground that could pass for our man and keep him in the tunnel in case he's needed; our man would make contact with him in town and have him head back here," Hogan said, determined not to use the radio. "That's the best I can do considering what I have to work with. Now, the first thing to do is determine who's going into town tonight…"

At these words, the team, who had been looking towards Hogan, now broke their gaze and stared determinedly elsewhere.

"Don't make this any more difficult than it is already…" the colonel said, rolling his eyes.

Carter sighed, relenting.

"Guess I'll volunteer, Sir; no one's seen through one of my disguises yet…"

"Thanks, Carter. Now we just need to figure out who in the Underground—"

"Schultz is on the way, Colonel," Private Garlotti said, who had been watching at the door.

Kinch quickly put the notebook and the two communications back into the panel in the wall just before the big sergeant headed inside.

"Colonel Hogan!" he said. "Colonel Hogan, Kommandant Klink wants to see you in his office right away!"

"What does he want now?"

"Please, Colonel Hogan," Schultz said. "Just go see him without making trouble; I have been promised the evening off, and I don't want anything to spoil it."

Hogan froze.

"You've been promised the evening off?"

" _Ja_. Corporal Langenscheidt, also; I am sure he would not want it spoiled, as well."

Hogan let out a sigh.

"I'll go see what he wants," he said, sending a silent message to his men to see if they could get any more information on whether or not their plans involved the wax museum before he headed out the door.

The men understood, and tried to appear nonchalant as Schultz ambled over to LeBeau's stack of ingredients.

"And what are we making today?" the sergeant inquired, eagerly.

"It does not matter what _we_ are making," LeBeau said, casually. "After all, I am assuming you are not going to stay here tonight for dinner, since you will be having the evening off, _non_?"

" _Ja_ , true," Schultz admitted. "Karl and I will probably have something at the Hofbrau, but… please save me something of whatever it is you will be making, LeBeau. Your food is even better than what they give at the Hofbrau."

"Obviously…" the Frenchman said.

"Oi, Schultzie!" Newkirk said. "Other than a meal of pub grub, you 'ave anything else planned?"

Schultz shrugged.

"Karl and I will be seeing that new wax museum with the Kommandant and General Burkhalter, but other than that, I do not think so…"

Silence filled the barracks, and Kinch let out a quiet, almost inaudible whistle. Hogan was not going to be pleased to hear this… in fact, he was probably hearing about it right now in Klink's office.

* * *

It turned out that Hogan was, indeed, hearing about it, though he didn't realize it at first; Klink's lead-up to it had been something that Hogan had heard several times before, and usually didn't think too much of.

"Colonel Hogan, I am aware that the Geneva Convention clearly states that prisoners of war are not required to do any sort of manual labor for the various establishments in town," Klink began. "…You've never let me forget it, not even once."

"Good," Hogan said. "Because I really don't think my men are in the mood to do any sort of work—"

"If you will let me finish, Hogan, I was about to tell you that, in addition to the monetary sum that the Hammelburg establishment in question will be willing to provide for you and the men you choose for this work detail, I would also be willing to bargain with you for extra rations for your men."

"Why? What's in it for you?"

"I do not have to answer that," Klink said. "But if you must know, a satisfactory performance done by this work detail will result in my being granted the evening off, for which I have already made plans."

 _Him, too? It can't be_ … the American colonel thought, his eyes narrowing slightly. He had learned to be suspicious of coincidences a long time ago, and this one was one of the most suspect ones he'd seen in quite a while.

"Well, Colonel," he said aloud. "I think you just might be jumping the gun here; as you yourself pointed out, under the Geneva Convention, I have every right to refuse on the behalf of my men."

"Yes, which is why I am ready to bargain," Klink said. "All I would need from you is a work detail to help set up some of the exhibits in the Hammelburg Wax Museum this afternoon, and perhaps do a little cleaning while you're there. If all goes well, General Burkhalter will allow me to attend a special exhibition as his guest—as well as bring more guests of my own; I intend to have Fraulein Hilda accompany me. And I promised Sergeant Schultz and Corporal Langenscheidt that if they did a good job looking after the work detail, they would be allowed to attend the exhibition, as well."

For the briefest instant, Hogan froze before quickly picking up his usual smug persona once again. Ordinarily, he would've quietly taken issue with the idea that Hilda was going as Klink's guest, but, for now, even that thought was pushed to the very back of the American colonel's mind.

"Well, Kommandant, my men aren't here to see you all have a good time—you do realize that," Hogan said at last.

"Yes, yes; what do you want?"

"Well, winter is on the horizon, and it gets pretty cold here; I'd like some extra blankets for my men, as well as better rations—LeBeau has been finding mealtime to be more and more of a challenge as of late."

"…Fine, an extra blanket for each man, and an increase in rations," Klink said, after thinking it over. "Now, I want you to—"

"Ah-ah-ah!" Hogan said. "I want an increase in the quality _and_ quantity of the rations, plus an additional blanket for each the men on the work detail."

" _Hogan_!"

"Take it or leave it; this window is closing!"

"Mmmph!" Klink fumed, shaking his fist. "Fine; I have no choice. Have your work detail report to my office in half an hour."

"Yes, Sir," Hogan said, saluting as he departed Klink's office.

He closed the door behind him, letting out a sigh and dropping his smug charade. He wasn't sure what he was getting into, only that they would have a solid excuse to be at the wax museum as a work detail, and that they would be at least slightly safer. But given what was at stake here, that "slightly" didn't count for as much as he would've liked.


	2. At the Museum

Hogan headed straight back to the barracks; he was still debating over whether or not he had made the right decision—and whether or not his team would go along with the idea at all; he couldn't blame them if they refused.

"Schultz, thanks for visiting, but you need to leave," he said, moving to guide the big man towards the door he had just entered through.

"But, Colonel Hogan—"

"Unless you'd like to sit in on one of our top-secret meetings," the colonel continued. "Oh, I can just see it now, Schultz; you'll be walking around with our secrets in your head, ready to be whisked off by whoever is curious enough to try to get the answers from you—"

Schultz practically flew out the door before Hogan had finished, prompting the men to ask questions. Hogan silently instructed Garlotti to watch the door and sent Thomas to get Baker from the radio room before turning to his assembled team.

"Klink, Hilda, and General Burkhalter—"

"—Are going to the ruddy wax museum with Schultz and Langenscheidt; 'e told us as much," Newkirk said, nodding his head towards the door where Schultz had left.

"Now let me tell you something you didn't know," Hogan said. "We're going, too—on a work detail."

As he expected, the men burst out in exclamations.

" _Quoi_?"

"Wot?"

"You've got to be kidding me, Boy! …Uh, Sir!"

"Colonel, I understand sending one man out in disguise," Kinch said. "But all of us, in uniform? Not for nothing, but that's tempting fate."

"I've given this some thought," Hogan said. "And if it _is_ a trap, we're more likely to come out of it alive if we're there on legitimate business, under the watch of Schultz and Langenscheidt. If it's not a trap, then it'll be easier for whoever Nimrod is to contact us, if they're coming as that transmission said. Schultz and Langenscheidt could just take one of us aside, and if it's one of the others, they just need to show up a little early and speak with us. We stay there long enough for everyone to arrive; if we're not approached by Nimrod, then we get Schultz and Langenscheidt to take us out of there and back here."

"Yeah, but… what if Nimrod _is_ there, but doesn't contact us?" Carter asked. "We never answered the message they sent, so they might not want to risk making contact. And if they don't, they might be in danger, like that second message said!"

"If that happens, then we'll stage an escape here; that'll bring Klink back, and chances are more than likely that Hilda will come back with him. With Burkhalter being there alone, we can have General Kinchmeyer or someone wish to see him right away—a creative story and a phone call will get him out of there."

Hogan paused, watching as the men exchanged glances.

"This is all about minimizing risk—both to us and to Nimrod," he continued. "But there is no way to eliminate all of the risk. This is still a dangerous ploy we're trying, so I only want to take volunteers with me for this work detail."

LeBeau and Newkirk looked determinedly away, though Carter raised his hand.

"Well, I guess since I volunteered for the original plan, I'll volunteer for this one, too," the tech sergeant offered. "Like you said, it _is_ slightly safer…"

"I guess I'll go along with it, too," Kinch said.

"Me, too," Olsen said.

"So that's three," Hogan said. "But three men aren't enough for a work detail."

All eyes now turned to the two corporals; Hogan knew that Newkirk would not be quick to agree unless LeBeau was in with them on the mission.

"LeBeau…" Hogan said. "I know you don't have high hopes about this, but if it is true, it could mean that we could help more factions of the Underground—including the ones in France."

France—one of the magic words that could convince LeBeau to be willing to put himself in danger, even if he was previously against the idea. Newkirk knew this; he looked in LeBeau's direction as the Frenchman looked to the colonel.

" _Oui_ ," he said, at last. "I will go on the work detail."

"Cor blimey…" Newkirk muttered, slamming his hand down on the table. "Right-o, then, guess I'll go along with it."

"Your enthusiasm is appreciated," Hogan said. "I think the five of you will be enough—any more than that, and it'll be harder to watch our backs. I'll be there to supervise the work detail, of course…"

He trailed off as Thomas and Baker came up from the radio room.

"Okay," the colonel said, seeing them. "Thomas, Baker, Garlotti, and Wilson—you four are going to be holding the fort while we're gone. Stay by the radio in case we need to send a message out to you, or if any other messages come in."

"Is that all, Sir?" Thomas asked.

"No, there's more," Hogan said, steeling himself. "If you get the word to do so by any one of us, evacuate the camp. I also want you to evacuate the camp if you don't hear from any of us by midnight."

Silence responded him.

"Colonel, you don't mean—" Baker began.

"I want everything to be covered should the worst happen," Hogan said. "We'll try to relay a message to you somehow so that we can keep you updated on what's going on."

Hogan now turned to his five volunteers—his core team, the ones who had been through thick and thin for their cause and for each other on more than one occasion. The colonel had wanted to tell them that, in the event of a trap, they were to make their escape, every man for himself. But he knew that it would be pointless to tell them that; they would never abandon each other—not even Newkirk, the self-confessed "natural coward."

"Carter, I want you to grab one of those smokescreen charges of yours, just in case," he said, at last, not even bringing up his previous thought.

"Right, Sir. I've been working on a new one that has three times the smoke in one half the—"

"I'll take your word for it," Hogan said. "Okay, that's all I have to say for now; Klink wants us to fall in at his office. We may as well get moving."

* * *

_Das Haus aus Wachs_ , as the museum called itself, wasn't an overly large building; it consisted of a ground floor, another floor, and an attic, which was also converted to become par to the museum. There were several rooms on each level, however, each with a different theme. The Heroes didn't get a chance to look at them, though; the work detail was to concern itself with sweeping the floors and dusting the figures in the entrance hall and lobby, which consisted of figures of the German High Command.

If the Heroes had been hoping for either Schultz or Langenscheidt to step forward as Nimrod while they were working, they were disappointed; all they got was a "Please don't make jokes like that" chiding from Schultz, who had overheard Newkirk and Carter discussing how they ought to stick "Kick Me" signs to the backs of the High Command figures. LeBeau agreed that it was no joking matter, and instead proposed a few other (highly unflattering) words to paste on the figures' backs—words that, being in French, Schultz didn't understand, but he got the gist of them all the same.

Though LeBeau had been serious, Newkirk and Carter's discussion had been an attempt to slightly cut through the tangible tension among the team. In his nervousness, Olsen had accidentally almost dusted the proprietor of the museum, mistaking him for a figure. The proprietor had been most un-amused.

Hogan, in the meantime, had paced the lobby in circles as his men worked, keeping an eye on every shadow in his peripheral vision, lest there be an enemy concealing himself within. They were here early, he knew, but there could easily have been someone who had arrived even earlier. As the afternoon progressed without incident, Hogan did relax slightly, but was careful not to lower his guard.

The Nimrod situation didn't get any better, though; Klink, Hilda, and Burkhalter eventually _all_ arrived at the museum just as the work detail was finishing up. They looked around the lobby with approval.

"Herr General!" the proprietor of the museum said, crossing across the room to greet him. "You are rather early!"

"You can thank Colonel Klink for that, Herr _…_ " the general began, trailing off. "It was Herr Wolfhelm, was it not?"

"Yes, that is correct," Wolfhelm said. He turned to Colonel Klink to greet him. "I must thank you, Colonel, for the allowing your prisoners of war to help me get my museum in order. And greetings to you, as well, Fraulein."

Hilda smiled politely as Wolfhelm kissed her hand in greeting.

"You are indeed earlier than I anticipated… But, perhaps, this could be an opportunity for me to give you a special tour of my museum before the other guests arrive?" Wolfhelm offered.

"Yes, I think a private tour would be most enjoyable," Klink said. "Schultz, I want you make preparations to go back to the Stalag at once and take—"

"No one is going anywhere!" an all-too-familiar voice roared from the entrance. "Not until I am satisfied with the state of things here!

Hogan resisted the urge to slap his forehead; he should have known that all possible Nimrod suspects would be here. He and his men turned to see the well-known scowl on Major Hochstetter's face.

"What is the meaning of this?" Burkhalter demanded, none too pleased to see the disagreeable major—a man for whom he just barely withheld his public disdain.

"I have received reports of suspicious activity—that a meeting of…" Hochstetter trailed off, noticing Hogan and his men for the first time since entering. "What is this man doing here?"

"They were here on a work detail, Major!" Klink said. "A work detail was requested by Herr Wolfhelm!"

"Oh?" Hochstetter asked, sneering at Wolfhelm. "And what are your credentials? Or are you really a member of the Underground."

"Major, I can assure you, that you will find nothing connecting me to the Underground; I needed a group of men to clean up this lobby before I gave an invitation-only exhibition of my new wax museum."

"Bah!" Hochstetter snarled. "The exhibition will have to be postponed; I will surround this museum with a ring of steel until I am through with my search!" He glared at Hogan. "I am sure that with Colonel Hogan on the premises, I will find _something_."

"But, Major, these men haven't even been beyond this room!" Wolfhelm said.

"That is true," Schultz said, as Langenscheidt nodded in agreement. "Langenscheidt and I were watching them the entire time."

"It would not be difficult to get past the two of you!" Hochstetter sneered.

"Hochstetter, this is utter nonsense!" Burkhalter hissed. "Like a mad dog, you are merely chasing your own tail. Someone undoubtedly called you up here to distract you from the real goings-on elsewhere!"

Klink took a step back away from the fray as Hochstetter took a step towards General Burkhalter.

"Are you insinuating, Herr General, that someone is trying to make a fool of me?"

"It would not be very difficult!"

"Ah, my dear," Klink said, turning to Hilda. "Why don't you and I take that private tour of the museum while General Burkhalter and Major Hochstetter stay here to discuss the finer points of—"

"Where do you think you're going, Klink?" Burkhalter demanded, causing the colonel to freeze in his tracks. "You are a part of this discussion, too!"

Hogan was now watching in amusement, his feelings of unease ebbing slightly. At any rate, with the Germans around, he had to make an effort to seem like his laid-back, easy-going self and not let on that something was concerning him.

"Which one is your money on, Sir?" Olsen asked, quietly.

"Don't know," he said. "But I hope Nimrod wins, whoever he is."

"Fraulein, if you wish, you can take a look at the exhibits," Herr Wolfhelm offered Hilda. He turned to the work detail. "I suppose you men can, as well, since you helped get this place in order—providing one of the guards goes with you."

Langenscheidt volunteered, seemingly eager to get away from the squabbling officers. It wasn't enough to declare him, Nimrod, of course; Schultz had tried to get away, as well, but Klink insisted he stay put—if Klink couldn't escape from Burkhalter, neither could Schultz.

Hogan led his men out of the room as Hochstetter and Burkhalter snarled at each other, and as Klink weakly tried to maintain peace.

The next door opened into a hall of great German and Austrian cultural icons. A centerpiece in the middle of the room showed a scene from the _Niebelungenlied_. Goethe stood to the right of the room, a copy of _Faust_ lying open in his wax hands. A few yards from Goethe, young Mozart was at his piano, deep in thought. A few yards from him, Johann Strauss was overlooking a window, out of which—actually painted on the wall—was the Danube River.

On the left side of the room, Bach was busily writing some sheet music, across the room from Goethe. A few yards from him, Beethoven was conducting an orchestra made up of well-dressed wax figures, with real instruments in their hands.

Hilda took a look around, shaking her head slightly as she headed on to the next room, leaving the men behind.

"What is this?" Newkirk asked, also unimpressed. "This is all one ruddy propaganda bit for them! In the entrance 'all, they 'ad their blooming 'igh Command, and 'ere, they 'ave all these long-'aired composers and writers?"

"Newkirk, we're at war—did you really expect them to have Shakespeare up here?" Hogan asked.

"No, but it would've been nice…"

LeBeau nodded furiously in agreement, looking at the obviously biased display with utter disdain. He muttered under his breath that Georges Bizet would have had a place in a _real_ wax museum.

Hogan shrugged it off, silently stepping over the rope barrier that cut Beethoven off from the area where the public was allowed.

"Colonel Hogan…!" Langenscheidt protested. "Colonel Hogan, I really don't think you should be there!"

"Just wanted to take a look at this snare drum," Hogan mused, pulling the drum sticks from the wax hands of one of the drummers. It wouldn't be enough for him to keep his unworried persona and hope that the Germans wouldn't notice his underlying nervousness; he had to diffuse the noticeable tension among his men—and this was a surefire way to do it.

"You wouldn't…" Carter said, his eyes widening.

The colonel began to tap out a rhythm.

"He would…" Kinch said, suppressing a smirk.

This soon prompted Schultz to come bustling in.

"Colonel Hogan!" he protested, prompting Hogan to take five. "What are you doing?"

"Just having a little fun, Schultz," the colonel said, putting on his cheeky grin. "Besides, it helps to drown out that racket out there."

To prove his point, Hochstetter and Burkhalter's voices could still be heard arguing outside. Klink had seemed to have just given up on trying to stop them; instead, he just folded his arms and watched with some amount of nervousness.

"Aww, be a chum, Schultzie," Newkirk said. "Let the colonel play. Besides… you 'ave to admit, those wax figures can't 'old a candle to 'im, eh?"

 _Ba-dam-tssh_!

"Thanks for that, Guv," the Englishman grinned in response to the rimshot.

"Colonel Hogan, _please_!" Schultz pleaded. "You will get all of us into so much trouble if you are seen playing on those drums!"

"All right, Schultz," Hogan said, placing the drumsticks back in the wax hands. He crossed back over the rope barrier as Hilda suddenly returned to the room that they were in, her eyes wide.

"Colonel Hogan!" she exclaimed. "You… you have to see this!"

The urgency in her voice did not go unnoticed; the colonel's face sobered at once as he, the others, and the two guards headed to the next room. This was a room dedicated to soldiers throughout Germany's history.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Look!" Hilda said, pointing to a figure in the far corner of the room.

"Holy smoke!" Carter exclaimed, a mix of excitement and surprise on his face.

"Blimey, it's déjà vu, ain't it?"

" _I_ will say the French words, if you please…" LeBeau said, though he couldn't hide his own amazement.

" _Ach du lieber_ …!" Schultz gasped, as Langenscheidt just stared.

They all were amazed and bemused, and perhaps even a little amused, too, except for Hogan; his feeling of unease and suspicion were now back tenfold. The colonel's eyes narrowed at the figure, his gut instinct telling him that something was very wrong.

The figure was of General von Siedelberg.


	3. When One Door Closes

"Colonel Hogan!" Schultz said, staring at the statue. "Colonel Hogan, that is the general who visited Stalag 13 that time the female spy—"

"We know, Schultz, we know," Hogan said, through gritted teeth.

The likeness of the figure was uncanny; it did look exactly as Carter had been dressed, and his face was the sergeant's mirror image—even down to the mole on his face. No detail had been spared; it was as though Carter had dressed up as the general and had posed for the artists or had given them a picture!

And it was that fact that concerned Hogan the most, of course; no pictures had ever been taken of Carter as von Siedelberg, and he certainly hadn't posed for the artists, either. So how could such a perfect likeness have been crafted?

"What happens now, Colonel?" Kinch asked, quietly, sensing the colonel's suspicions.

"We figure out a way to get out of here as soon as possible," the colonel said.

"Schultz!" Klink called from outside. "Schultz, get the work detail out here!"

"And there it is," Hogan said, as he ushered his men back out to the lobby. Hilda, Schultz, and Langenscheidt went with them, their desire to see the rest of the museum having faded.

Hogan's mind was on something else, as well—a chance to have a word with the owner of this place. Who had made that von Siedelberg figure? How had the makers been able to create such an uncanny likeness, especially when there were no pictures of von Siedelberg in existence? Those questions were racing through the colonel's head; and the answers to those questions could very well mean the difference between life and death—for him and his plucky crew.

"Schultz, this line of discussion is getting us nowhere," Klink said, as Burkhalter and Hochstetter continued to argue. "I want you to take the work detail back to the camp at once."

"What about the payment for the work we did?" Hogan said, using this moment to give the proprietor a searching look.

"Yes, I do owe these men for their work," Wolfhelm said, not registering Hogan's look. "If the major will permit me, I will go to the bank and withdraw the money, as well as put up a sign to announce that the special exhibition is postponed."

"No, I do not permit you!" Hochstetter snarled. "I don't want anyone to leave this place until I have finished my search! I have a squad of men outside—"

"You will tell your men to stand down!" Burkhalter ordered. "You have already succeeded in ruining this evening for all of us; this will end now! Herr Wolfhelm, do as you wish and get the money quickly; I want these men back in Stalag 13 as soon as possible!"

"Let me inform you, General, that your rank will not protect you from my investigation!" Hochstetter said. "Your undermining my authority will not look good for you in my report! One of my predecessors, Major Zolle, suggested that an investigation of you would not be completely amiss!"

"Are you threatening me, Hochstetter?"

"I am merely ensuring that there is some amount of order here!"

Herr Wolfhelm, looking very concerned, quickly slipped out the door, aiming to get his trip to the bank done as soon as possible.

"Hochstetter, for the last time, I order you to stop this nonsense!"

"You can be rest assured that my superiors will hear of this!" Hochstetter snarled to the general.

"Good!" he retorted. "For I intend to ensure that my superiors are aware of this, also! …And Major, might I remind you that _your_ superiors are working for mine? My superiors will be especially intrigued to know of your notoriously low success rate in capturing Underground agents! Even during the rare times you do manage to catch one, you never seem to be able to hold onto them for long!"

"You can blame _him_ for that!" Hochstetter spat, glaring pointedly at Hogan.

Hogan obligingly put on a fake innocent look.

"Who, me?" he asked. "I'm just locked up in the little Stalag down yonder, don't you know? Isn't that right, Boys?"

" _Ah, oui; c'est la guerre_ …"

"Too right; Cor, I ain't seen the sights of a town since the last blooming work detail. 'ow long ago was that, Kinch?"

"Oh, I'd say a few months ago… Maybe more."

"That's right! We're cut off from civilization, Boy! Isn't that right, Olsen?"

"Yeah; if it wasn't for our sporadic mail calls, we'd forget all about the rest of the world!"

"Bah!" Hochstetter snarled. "He is behind it all, and you are all in his inner circle."

"Inner circle? Us?" Newkirk asked, looking affronted. "You make me sound like a right thug! Cor, if me poor old Mum 'eard you, she'd be rolling over in 'er grave!"

"You know what it is, Major? I think you're paranoid; stress can do that to a man," Hogan said. "And that could be a sign of trouble, you know; have you checked your blood pressure lately?"

"Colonel Hogan, that's enough," Klink said, wanting to avoid any more trouble. "Major Hochstetter, Colonel Hogan and the others are under my watchful eye at all times; there is no possible way they could be aiding the Underground as you claim! They couldn't leave the Stalag even if they tried!"

"Ah, yes, 'tis a difficult and dreary life we live as prisoners of war," Newkirk sighed dramatically.

"That will do, Newkirk," Klink said. "Schultz?"

The big man gave a start as he was called upon.

" _J_ - _Ja_?"

"I want you and Langenscheidt to take Hogan and the work detail back to camp at once."

"No, I forbid it!" Hochstetter fumed. "No one will go anywhere until—!"

"Hochstetter!" Burkhalter bellowed. "As Klink's superior and as the one to oversee all of the prisoner of war camps, I see it as a matter of security for these men to be returned to Stalag 13 at once! And my word is worth more than yours!"

"Well, Men, it looks as though we have worn out our welcome here; it's back to the old Stalag for us," Hogan said, with a mock sigh. In reality, of course, he was grateful for Burkhalter's insistence on their departure.

He paused as that thought registered deeper into his head. Could it be that Burkhalter was Nimrod after all…?

At any rate, Schultz and Langenscheidt were both eager to leave; the big sergeant shuffled over to the door and attempted to open it. The doorknob rattled, but did not move.

" _Herr Kommandant_ …" Schultz said, growing more nervous by the minute. " _Herr Kommandant_ … The door… I cannot open the door! It is locked!"

"That's ridiculous!" Klink said, walking over to the door. He, too, tried and failed to open it. "…It _is_ locked. And the key is gone!"

Burkhalter glared daggers at Hochstetter.

"Is this your doing, Major?" he accused. "You and your 'ring of steel' you keep blathering about?"

"Bah! I have no key to this place! The only one who has a key is the proprietor!"

"Oh, he must have locked the door by accident when he went to the bank," Klink said, massaging the bridge of his nose. "I expect the Major unnerved him so much that he didn't know what he was doing. Langenscheidt?"

" _Ja, Herr Kommandant_?"

"Go find a phone and call Herr Brinksmeyer at the bank; tell him to tell Herr Wolfhelm to hurry back as soon as possible since he has the key."

"At once, _Herr Kommandant_ ," the corporal said, looking around for a phone. Unable to find one in the lobby, he headed to the next room—the one with the composers—to search for a phone, room by room.

"Ruddy nonsense, waiting for a bloomin' key," Newkirk muttered to Hogan. "If we could distract that lot over there, I could 'ave that door open in two shakes."

"I know you could," Hogan replied. "But I don't want to risk them seeing you with that skill—only _one_ of them is Nimrod. How would you explain the door suddenly opening?"

"They pushed the door when they should 'ave pulled it open? Or maybe it was just jammed?"

"Never mind," the colonel said, and he turned to address the men as a group. "Okay, Men, you know we're going back as soon as that door is unlocked, so I want you to get all of that cleaning equipment back inside the storage closets. We made this place shine, so let's put that equipment away! When Wolfhelm sees that, he just might decide to call us back to work on some of the other rooms! That could provide us with a chance for more fresh air, some more money in our pockets, and maybe a better look around town, even, on our way here!"

"Not if I have anything to do with it!" Hochstetter snarled. "You are a danger inside the camp as it is; I shudder to think how far your shenanigans go _outside_ the camp!"

"Shenanigans?" Hogan said, in a (once again) faked hurt voice. "Major, you wound me!"

"Oh, if only I could," Hochstetter muttered, through gritted teeth. " _If only_ …"

"Now, Gentlemen, there is no reason for this," Klink said, trying to act as peacekeeper again while Burkhalter rolled his eyes in boredom. "Major Hochstetter, I am sure that if you took a step back, you would eventually admit that it does seem as though your accusations are unfounded—"

"If I took a step back, I would undoubtedly fall right into one of Hogan's traps!" Hochstetter snarled.

Now it was LeBeau's turn to mutter "If only" as he gathered some of the leftover cleaning materials—though he said it in his own tongue, of course.

"Colonel!" Carter called. He was standing at the hallway where the storage cupboards were, but the door leading to the hallway was closed. "Colonel, this door won't open, either!"

He pushed and pulled the door as Schultz and Klink had done with the front door, but it didn't budge either.

"There's nothing but storage cupboards in there; why would anyone lock this corridor?" the sergeant added, baffled.

"Aha!" Hochstetter exclaimed. "It is as I figured; the proprietor has something to hide from me! Why else would he call you six here? You are all in on it!"

"If we were, do you _really_ think I'd bring the locked corridor to your attention?" Carter asked.

"Undoubtedly, you did it to cast suspicion away from yourself!" the major snarled, shoving Carter away from the locked door.

The sergeant gave his comrades a bemused look.

"He really _is_ paranoid!"

"Never mind, Andrew," Newkirk said, folding his arms as he watched Hochstetter attempt multiple times to pry open, kick down, and pick open the door—each attempt with the same results. "Let's just enjoy it while it lasts."

"It must pain you, Pierre, to see this," LeBeau murmured to him, quietly.

Newkirk bit back a snark as he drew his arm around the Frenchman's shoulders.

"Worst bloomin' form I've ever seen," he quietly replied. "I wish me mates from the Red Lion were 'ere to see this…"

Hogan was not amused; however, and it wasn't about Hochstetter's antics—that, at least, he was confident he could handle. But between the von Siedelberg figure, the proprietor's hasty exit, and now these locked doors, his suspicions about the man were growing stronger by the minute.

The colonel was now considering Newkirk's idea of having him try to pick the lock on the front door while everyone was preoccupied with Hochstetter's attempts to open the corridor's door, but he soon found himself distracted as Klink began to pace nearby, muttering about Langenscheidt.

"Did you say something?" Hogan asked.

"I was just wondering how long does it take a man to find a phone and make a call!" Klink said. "Langenscheidt should have been back here by now—if for no other reason than to inform me that he couldn't find a phone!"

Hogan's ill feeling about all of this grew as he glanced at the door through which Langenscheidt had exited.

Silently, he walked over to the door and tried to open it. As he had feared, this door was locked, as well.

"How could that happen?" Klink asked, seeing what Hogan had tried to do. "We saw Langenscheidt go through that door without any trouble; it was unlocked then!"

"Well, it's locked now," the American colonel said, flatly, kicking the door in one last attempt to open it. The solid piece of wood refused to budge.

The others now drew their attention to Hogan upon hearing the kick.

"That one, too, Guv'nor?" Newkirk asked, his amusement at Hochstetter's failed door-opening attempts quickly snuffing out.

"That one, too," Hogan confirmed. "And Langenscheidt is somewhere in the building with no way to get back to us."

"But that doesn't make any sense at all," Kinch said, frowning. "We saw the proprietor leave. And Langenscheidt went through the door without a problem. So how could the door lock itself?"

"It couldn't," Hogan said, remaining as stoic as he could. "Someone had to lock the door after Langenscheidt went through, since I'm pretty sure he couldn't have locked it himself without a key."

"Oh, Cor," Newkirk said, his gaze shifting all around as it usually did when he was nervous.

It was clear that there were more than just the twelve of them in this building; someone else was here—someone who clearly wanted to ensure that they would all remain here, too.


	4. Another Door Closes, Too

Discussions and arguments over what to do quickly filled the room, giving the colonel a moment to assess the situation.

Hogan knew when to take risks, and what risks to take. He knew when to push his limits and try for something that seemed impossible. But he also knew when to retreat, and to prioritize. Now, he was willing to let Newkirk try his hand at picking the locks to get them out of the museum.

"Stand by," he said, quietly, to the Englishman. "I want you to unlock the door to the culture exhibit as soon as I've distracted the others."

"Why that one?" Newkirk asked. "We ought to scarper out the front door, and forget about this bloomin' place…"

"I know, but there's still a chance that Langenscheidt is Nimrod; we can't risk abandoning him here in case he is. Open that door, and then the corridor door that Carter tried to open; I don't want Hochstetter going through the exhibits and seeing the von Siedelberg figure. Once Hochstetter occupies himself with the storage corridor, work on the front door; we'll clear out of here the second Langenscheidt is found."

"Right-o, Guv."

The colonel now crossed to where the rest of the Germans were discussing their dilemma.

"Colonel Klink, I think it only fair to remind you, Sir, that as prisoners of war, we are to be protected from danger, and I see us trapped by Hochstetter's men outside as a direct threat to us."

"Are you insinuating that _I_ had something to do with this?" Hochstetter fumed, turning to glare at Hogan. "You dare to stand there and accuse me when your entire reason for being here is to meet with some Underground contact? You and your men—perhaps your contact, too, are the ones behind all of these locked doors!"

"Begging your pardon, Major," Newkirk said, innocently, as he opened the door to the culture exhibit. "But it appears that this door wasn't locked after all; it was just stuck."

"Schultz," Klink said, relief coming to his face as he considered that they weren't trapped in here after all. "Go find Langenscheidt and get him back here."

Schultz saluted and ambled off towards the now-open door, but hesitated before going through.

" _Herr Kommandant_ … I… I do not think it would be efficient to look for Langenscheidt when he might be on his way back here!"

"Go, you coward! Go!" Klink ordered, stamping his foot.

Schultz bustled out of the room as Newkirk now opened the corridor door.

"Blimey, Major, looks like this one was only stuck, too!" he exclaimed, with wonderfully staged surprise.

"Bah! This is all an act!" Hochstetter said, glaring at Newkirk. "You are party to whatever is being hidden in there!"

"A party, Sir?" Newkirk asked. "Why would I open the door for you if I 'ad something to 'ide?"

"For the same reason _that_ one would alert my attention to the door in the first place!" Hochstetter answered, now casting a glare in Carter's direction, who merely shrugged. "You are just as much a party to this as he is!"

Now it was Newkirk's turn to shrug innocently.

"Well, you're more than free to examine the corridor, Major; I, for one, am sure that you'll only find more cleaning equipment in there."

"We will see," Hochstetter snarled.

He stormed into the corridor and attempted to wrench open the first door he came across, and fumed as it turned out to be locked, also.

"What is this?" he demanded to no one in particular. "Why is every door locked in this place?"

"Not locked, Major; just stuck, I'll wager," Newkirk said, calmly.

Quick as a wink, Newkirk slid the wire out from his sleeve and got to work as Hochstetter turned and faced the next locked door.

"Just as we thought," Newkirk said, as he opened it. "Cleaning products…"

Hochstetter was now giving Newkirk a suspicious look.

"You must have a key!" he accused.

"Major, please!" Newkirk said, pretending to look affronted. "You can search me if you wish!"

Hochstetter took him up on it, of course, and found nothing; Newkirk successfully palmed his pencil sharpener into Hochstetter's pocket and took it back when the search had finished.

"You see, Major?"

Hochstetter gave him a glare before taking a closer look at the cleaning products inside.

"I'm pretty sure they are genuine," Newkirk said, sounding far more casual than he felt. "Of course, if you still have any doubt, you could always try cleaning the placer yourself and see 'ow well they work; we never got a chance to clean anything beyond the lobby; I'm sure old Wolfhelm would appreciate that…"

"Bah!" Hochstetter snarled, slamming the door to the closet. Realizing that he hadn't looked thoroughly through it, the major tried to open the door again, and growled in frustration when he could not open it again.

Newkirk blinked; had the door somehow locked itself after being picked open? But how was that even possible? The lock required a key to lock and unlock, and there certainly hadn't been a key inside the closet—or anyone to lock it.

The Englishman scratched his head as he looked to Hogan, who returned the look with a sigh.

"Now where has Schultz disappeared to?" Klink demanded, distracting everyone again. "I sent him to find Langenscheidt; now I have to find the both of them!"

"And then?" Burkhalter said. "You will have no one to watch over your prisoners! You cannot ask myself or Hilda to look after them, and you would be a fool to trust them to Hochstetter."

A few yards away, the major grumbled something unintelligible, but it sounded suspiciously like a curse to Newkirk, who was closest.

"Very well," Klink said. "Hogan, you and your men will come with me to find Schultz and Langenscheidt!"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Hogan said. "We seem to have worn out our welcome here; we probably should head back to camp."

"Without getting paid for the cleaning you did?" Klink asked, his eyebrows arching. "It isn't like you to allow your men to work for free."

"I'll trust that Wolfhelm will send the money to us there," the American colonel countered. "We're not going anywhere, remember?"

"Of course you're not," Klink agreed. "You will not—"

"You will not be leaving here!" Hochstetter finished. "Since Corporal Newkirk seems to have better luck with opening these doors than the rest of us, he will stay here and help with my investigation!"

"Now _that's_ against the Geneva Convention!" Hogan shot back. "Newkirk is not obligated to help with your intelligence work!"

"Silence!" Hochstetter snarled. "I am not 'obligated' to put up with your tongue, Hogan, and I will not!"

Newkirk looked to Hogan in surprise. Hogan never snapped at Hochstetter; the colonel usually played innocent around the major. The Englishman quickly realized that the colonel's stress level over their current situation was past the boiling point; he wanted to get them out of here.

"Sir, while I will stand by the Union Jack and refuse to 'elp Major Hochstetter with 'is search, I am sure that the Geneva Convention will allow me to 'elp look for Schultz and Langenscheidt. The sooner we find them, the sooner we can leave."

Hogan gave Newkirk a searching look, but gave a slight nod; he approved of the idea.

"We _all_ will help look for Schultz and Langenscheidt," he said. "With Colonel's Klink's permission, of course…"

"And Klink's supervision," Burkhalter said, curtly. "While I am sure that Hochstetter's accusations against you are groundless, I do not want this turning into an escape attempt!"

"Under my watchful eyes, I can assure it will not, Herr General!" Klink said, saluting him. "Fraulein Hilda, my dear, perhaps you could come with us to help us look for those two and keep an eye on Hogan and his men for me? That is to say, you never did get your tour of this place—"

"Yes, I will go and help with the search," she said, very quickly. She gave a look to Hogan that clearly said that she was banking on _him_ to keep an eye on _her_ , in case the two disappearances were not accidental.

Hogan glanced back at the blonde woman, reading the look on her face. There was no way of knowing whether or not she wanted him there because of their relationship, or if it may be because she was Nimrod. The colonel suspected it could even be both, though he wasn't sure he could wrap his brain around the idea that, all this time, he had been trying to romance Nimrod.

Shaking off the thought, Hogan gave a nod to Klink, who led them through the room with the writers and composers. The German colonel paused to study them before heading towards the next door.

Klink scowled as this door refused to open, as well.

"This is impossible!" he said. "First Langenscheidt and then Schultz had to go through this door! How can it be locked?"

"Not locked, Sir," Newkirk lied, palming the wire he had been using to pick the lock. "I think it just needs a good kick."

"He's right, Colonel," Carter said, trying to distract Klink. "There was always this basement door back in my home in Bullfrog—that's North Dakota, by the way. Well, this door would always get stuck in the summer—the heat does that to doors, you know? You just needed to give it a kick, and it'd open right up!"

"Fascinating," Klink deadpanned, in a voice that clearly suggested otherwise.

"I don't know about Bullfrog, but a kick was all that this one needed," Newkirk said, as he opened the door.

The corporal froze in his tracks as he stepped inside, however; the tableau where the General von Siedelberg figure had been standing was now completely empty.

"Newkirk?" Hogan asked, seeing how Newkirk had reacted.

LeBeau, concerned, had arrived at Newkirk's side, only to let out a line in his own tongue that clearly illustrated his befuddlement.

"What is it?" Klink asked, unable to see what the fuss was about. "You can't expect all of the exhibits to be completely ready; this was only a preview invitation—which you were not invited to, if I may remind you."

Hogan just muttered a silent, "Oh, no…" under his breath as he saw the empty tableau. What did it mean? Who had moved the figure? Why? And where was the figure now? More than that, where were Schultz and Langenscheidt?

Klink was soon distracting himself slightly to take a look at the figures in the room while Hilda followed behind him, wrapping her coat more tightly around herself. Kinch waited for them to be some distance away before consulting with Hogan.

"What do you think, Colonel?" Kinch asked him, quietly.

"Stay tuned; I just _might_ have half an idea of what's going on here soon."

Hogan's wry wit did not disguise his stress, despite his valiant efforts to do so; this did not escape Kinch's attention, either.

"It shouldn't be too hard to convince Klink to take us back right now," the sergeant said. "I'm sure Hilda would have no hesitation in trying to convince him, either."

"That thought has crossed my mind more than once in the last several minutes," Hogan said, in an undertone. "But it's like I told Newkirk—so has the thought that either Schultz or Langenscheidt could be Nimrod, and that one of them was the one who moved that figure before anyone else could see it. Regardless, with everything going on around here, I don't want to leave Nimrod—whoever he is—to the mercy of this so-called funhouse. I wouldn't want to leave Schultz and Langenscheidt here even if neither of them was Nimrod."

"So we're staying here?"

"I'm going to see if I can send the five of you back with Klink; I'll stay here talking to Burkhalter or something and see what I can do about seeing the others out of here."

Kinch exhaled, his eyebrows arched, and it was Hogan's turn to read him.

"I didn't think you'd like that idea…" the colonel said, resigned.

"I think I speak for the others when I say that we would never leave you alone here, potentially high and dry," the sergeant agreed.

"I could order all of you to go, but I know that'd be futile, too; you'd probably grab the first loophole you could find and head back here," Hogan added.

Kinch gave him a look that clearly read, "Guilty as charged…"

"So," the colonel continued. "We're going to go with the plan of finding Schultz and Langenscheidt and then getting out of here as soon as possible."

"Let's just hope there's some emphasis on that 'soon,'" Kinch intoned. "Those barracks have never looked more welcoming."

"Colonel Hogan, do keep up!" Klink ordered as he stood by the door to the next room.

Hogan took note that Newkirk was unlocking the door while Klink was looking in Hogan's direction. Another locked door… another question as to who locked the door after Schultz and Langenscheidt clearly had gone through it… to say nothing of what the mysterious door-locker had done to them.

Without giving them a chance to answer the questions they already had, more and more questions were presenting themselves by the minute. And Hogan wasn't sure that he would like the answers.


	5. Faces from the Past

Hogan remained quiet as Klink yelled for Schultz and Langenscheidt, growing more annoyed by the minute.

"Where did they go? How could they _both_ disappear into thin air?" he demanded, decidedly not amused.

"Schultz? Disappear into thin air?" Olsen asked. "All three hundred pounds of him? Not likely…"

"Two hundred and ninety-five," Carter corrected him. "He's a little bit sensitive about that…"

LeBeau gave Carter a look.

"Does it really matter right now?" he muttered, his frustration beginning to show, as well.

The Frenchman found the light switch for the room and switched on the lights, blinking as more figures of decorated German soldiers and officers were illuminated, which caused LeBeau to scowl further. They all looked for the von Siedelberg figure, but it wasn't here. In fact, it looked as though another figure was missing; there was another empty tableau at the far end of the room, surrounded by several other figures.

"Well, they aren't in 'ere," Newkirk said. "May as well look into the next room; I'll wager that the bloomin' door is going to be uncooperative, as well…"

He gave Carter a sign to get him to distract Klink again long enough for him to work on the next door, but he soon found out that he didn't need to; Klink was soon preoccupied with the exhibit with the blank central tableau.

"I don't believe it!" he exclaimed, taking a closer look at one of the figures in the raised platform. "It's Rudy—my old friend from the University!"

"How's that?" Hogan asked, looking back at the exhibit. He, too, froze as he noticed that one of the figures was indeed General Rudolf von Lintzer—the general whom they had tricked into believing that there was a rocket factory in Leedingham (or Hamleeding, as Carter had unintentionally twisted it while being interrogated by von Lintzer).

"They must have made this figure as a tribute to him," Klink said, shaking his head. "…Actually, they must have made all of these figures as tributes. Look, there's Inspector General von Platzen…"

Carter's eyes widened.

"Yeah, it _is_ him!" he said. "And look; there's Major Hegel!"

"Hegel…" Klink repeated. "Wasn't he the one who offered to help you escape for diamonds?"

" _Oui_ , and you accidentally opened fire on him, which killed him," LeBeau said, unfeelingly. Hegel had been just about ready to kill them, after all—and the diamonds had been blackmail, not a bribe.

The Frenchman's eyes narrowed as he saw yet another figure.

"And this one!" he spat. "This one is that _Colonel_ Deutsch!"

"Yes, I remember him all too well," Klink said, his hand on his chin. "He was the one who got killed when the fake ammunition for the war games was accidentally mixed with some real ammunition."

Hilda edged away from the platform, uneasy; she headed for the next door as soon as Newkirk had opened it, softly calling for Schultz and Langenscheidt.

"You know, it's strange," Klink said, looking at the small group of figures surrounding the empty tableau. "All of these men are dead, and all of them had visited us at some point. Quite a coincidence…"

Hogan's eyes widened. Yes, it was true—von Platzen, von Lintzer, Deutsch, and Hegel… All of them had been to Stalag 13, and all of them were now dead, whether directly or indirectly from one of the Unsung Heroes' missions.

And then the light bulb snapped on over his head.

 _This is a trap. We've been betrayed_.

If it had been a coincidence regarding the von Siedelberg figure before, this new display denied any possibility of it remaining coincidental. Only someone who had known about their missions in-depth could have been able to get Carter's likeness so perfectly, and know exactly who the victims of their various missions had been.

…Or maybe it wasn't a betrayal; maybe one of their allies had been captured and had given the information under extreme duress, and whoever received the information constructed this plot.

Whether or not this was about Nimrod, Hogan didn't know. Maybe it was—maybe whoever had orchestrated this had intended to kill two birds with one stone, knowing that Hogan and his men would not want to risk any harm to Nimrod. Or maybe it was all just for the Unsung Heroes—a ploy to finally stop them. Regardless, here they all were, Nimrod and all—right where their captor wanted them.

And they couldn't afford to stay here any longer. In addition to the danger, Hogan didn't like the look on Klink's face; the German colonel seemed to be trying to put the pieces together in his mind, as well. Usually, Hogan didn't think too much about things going on under Klink's nose, but this was more than the American was willing to chance.

"Colonel Klink," he said, quietly. "Colonel, I really think we should continue with our search. I think General Burkhalter can only wait for so long before he'll start threatening to send people to the Russian Front."

"Yes, I suppose…" Klink said, casting a backwards glance at the display as he headed for the door.

Both colonels paused they noticed Newkirk and LeBeau staring at a second display near the door; this one was of German soldiers surrounding a fallen English soldier. Ordinarily, this would've been dismissed by the corporals as just another piece of propaganda, but Newkirk had paled as he noticed the blond hair and pained expression of the fallen soldier, clutching a briefcase in his hands.

"It's 'im…" Newkirk said to LeBeau, quietly. "It's 'ercules."

"Are you certain, _mon pote_?" LeBeau whispered back, placing a supporting arm around Newkirk's shoulders.

"Louis, the man likely died in me arms—Wilson said as much. You don't forget when a bloke tells you that. Besides that, there's the briefcase 'e was carrying."

"But we sent him back to England—we saw to it that he would get a proper burial," the Frenchman said, quietly. "We even got word when they received him."

Newkirk blinked, looking back at the figure of Hercules.

"Do you reckon someone in England is responsible for this figure, then?" he asked. "But why would they contribute to a German wax museum?"

LeBeau shrugged, unsure. It was all very strange, regardless of the answer…

Though he couldn't hear the conversation, Hogan had the same idea in his head; this was deeper than just someone who knew about them. This had to be someone in England—a spy or a defector who knew the Unsung Heroes well enough to know a lot about the missions they had completed.

And if they knew this much, well… it was a cinch that they knew everything about the tunnels, their Underground network, their contacts… They would have known everything about anything—meaning that in the event that this ploy to unnerve them, trap them, or whatever it is they had planned was to fail, they could just as easily send the information on to someone who could round them up and finish them off before they could even have so much of a chance to take a step.

And if Hochstetter wasn't Nimrod, well… that meant that he was right in the thick of the evidence he so longed for—the chance to prove that Hogan was Papa Bear.

Hogan once again found himself jolted from his thoughts by Klink's impatient ranting about their situation.

"This is getting to be too much," Klink said. "I appreciate works of art such as these as much as the next man, but I still have not found my missing guards, the general is waiting in the lobby, and the proprietor has not yet returned with the key! How long does it take to withdraw a little money from the—"

A shrill scream from the next room cut him off, causing him and the others to jump in their tracks.

"Hilda!" Hogan exclaimed, pushing past the others and heading into the next room. He had to take a minute to get his bearings, realizing that he was in the Chamber of Horrors, and then hoping that she had only been frightened by one of the exhibits.

"Hilda?" he called again, as the others filed in behind him.

"…Fraulein?" Klink asked, softly, cringing at the wax monsters decorating the room. "Fraulein Hilda, there's nothing to be afraid of—they're only wax…"

His voice wasn't at all convincing, and everyone felt the same, thought it was Carter, of course, who voiced those feelings.

"You know, I saw this in a movie once…" the sergeant said, nervously. "It was called _Mystery of the Wax Museum_ —it's about this psychotic wax figure maker who was killing people and using them to make his figures—"

"Andrew?" Newkirk asked.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"Well, it _was_ just a movie," Carter defended himself, as they walked ahead. "I'm just saying it kind of reminds me of—"

He cut himself off, yelping as he triggered a trip wire that launched a wax vampire from its tableau, its fingers stopping inches from the young sergeant's face.

"'Alleged accused vampire Janos Skorzeny,'" Newkirk read off of the plaque. "See, Andrew? Not even Mr. Skorzeny wants to 'ear about your bloomin' film… And 'e could fit right into one of those 'orror movies…"

"Could you two knock it off?" Hogan quipped, sounding harsher than he had intended. "In case you haven't noticed, we now have _three_ missing people to find—one of whom we distinctly heard screaming!"

"Sorry, Guv," Newkirk said, hastily.

The Englishman now crossed to the next door, finding this locked, as well. He looked back to Hogan with a nervous look in his eyes—not because of the colonel's mood, but because this did not bode any better for them.

"She didn't go through this door," he said. "And we'd 'ave seen 'er if she'd gone through the other one."

Hogan shut his eyes; this was well beyond "too much." And it could only get worse from here.

Klink now clutched at his riding crop.

"You know, Hogan, I am now beginning to think that there may be something in what Hochstetter says."

"What?" the American colonel asked, his heart rising in his throat. "You aren't accusing us of—!"

"No, not about that!" Klink said. "I know that you are all too well-cowed to plan something like this. But I have a feeling that the Underground may in fact be behind this to trap us Germans here. …In which case, Hogan, I will need you to come to my defense. I mean… haven't I been a most humane Kommandant to you and your men? I have granted so many of your requests—"

"Yeah, I'll give you that much," Hogan agreed. "But don't get your hopes up; I really don't think my word is going to be worth much in this situation."

"Why on Earth would you say a thing like that?" Klink asked, blinking in surprise.

"Call it a nervous hunch," the American colonel replied. _One of those hunches I know can never be wrong, no matter how much I wish it was_ …

" _Pardon, mon Colonel_?"

Hogan blinked as LeBeau approached him, unsure of how to break this.

"What is it?"

He held out a button from a coat.

"I found this not too far from the figure of Skorzeny," the Frenchman said. "I think it is Hilda's."

Hogan took the button in his hand and sighed, nodding.

"It's hers, all right…"

"How can you be sure?" Klink asked. "Does the thread on the button match the color of her coat?"

"No; it smells like Starlight Mist," Hogan said, having caught a whiff of the traces of Hilda's perfume. "Where near Skorzeny did you find this, LeBeau?"

The corporal pointed to the spot on the floor a few feet from where Carter was standing; the trip wire that was rigged to launch the figure ran some distance from the spot.

"I wonder…" Hogan said, picking up the wire for a moment. "This wire is set to move that figure, obviously. But what if this isn't the only wire around here?"

"What do you mean?" Olsen asked.

"I mean that there could be another wire—perhaps many more—set to set off something else," Hogan said.

"Like a secret panel?" Klink asked. "Why would a small wax museum have those around?"

"Maybe to set up more scares in the Chamber of Horrors," Hogan suggested. "Or maybe…"

"…Or maybe Hochstetter is right about some sort of Underground facility," Klink finished.

 _Or we're about to start fighting for our lives any moment now_ , Hogan silently added. _And whoever is in this place has the home field advantage_.

He could only pray that those who had vanished behind the enemy lines would somehow be okay.


	6. Faces from the Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a disclaimer here… Things aren't always what they seem…

"This has gone far enough," Klink said. "I am going to have a word with General Burkhalter and force that front door down! And then I will have a squad of men to find Schultz, Langenscheidt, and Hilda!"

"What about us?" Carter asked.

"You will be sent back to Stalag 13!" Klink said. "I don't want to have to worry about you trying to escape from here, impossible as it is!"

Hogan pondered this idea for a moment. It was the best idea they could come up with to get the rest of them out safely. And perhaps they could go with their original plan of sending a man in disguise back to make sure that the three missing people made it out, just in case of them really was Nimrod.

"I guess we'll just have to go along with that," Hogan said, folding his arms.

"Yes, you will," Klink said. "I do not need to have Hochstetter claiming that I am letting you and your men run amok."

He stalked back towards the way that they had come through. Newkirk cast a baffled glance at the next room's door that led further into the museum, but Hogan shook his head; they couldn't help Nimrod if they were locked in this trap, after all. By getting out, they could, at the very least, gain a bit more control over the situation; given the way things were now, even a little control would be something worthwhile.

Unfortunately, it did not seem as though the Heroes were to get that bit of control, either. As Klink reentered the lobby, calling for General Burkhalter, the German colonel soon realized that his superior was nowhere in sight. Major Hochstetter, as well, was not where they had left him.

"Where did they go?" Klink asked, baffled as well as concerned.

It was all Hogan could do to stop himself from slapping his forehead and moaning, "Oh, no…"

"They're gone, too—just like the others!" Carter said. "Just like in the—"

"If you bring up that ruddy movie again, I swear…" Newkirk trailed off, not wanting to earn Hogan's ire again.

"Newkirk," Hogan said. "Try the front door. Maybe we only thought that door was locked, too, just like the other ones."

"I am sure that door was locked," Klink said. "I had taken a look at that one myself. And even if it was not locked, we cannot leave without General Burkhalter's permission anyway."

"How can he give us permission when he's vanished?" Hogan asked, incredulous. "Colonel Klink, we need to get out of here!"

"What are you so worried about, Hogan?" Klink asked. "This is clearly a plot against the Germans; you will be safe!"

"Until we're sure that you're right, we're no safer than you are!" Hogan countered. "And putting us in danger—"

"…Is a violation of the Geneva Convention," Klink finished for him, having heard it a million times already. "I know, I know…"

"So you'll take us back to camp?"

"And guarantee myself a court-martial?" Klink said. "If I leave Burkhalter here, they will have me found guilty before I can even open my mouth! Yes, it is true that as your Kommandant, I must look out for your well-being, but I must also look out for my well-being, too!"

"I could give you my word as an officer and a gentleman that I would take the men straight back to camp," Hogan said, now grasping at straws.

Klink could sense that Hogan was dead serious, but he still shook his head.

"Hogan, I can't. If you are that desperate to go back to the Stalag, I can call for some guards as soon as we find a telephone. …Where is the telephone?"

"We don't know; we sent Langenscheidt to look for it, remember?" Newkirk asked, rolling his eyes. "That's what started this ruddy mess in the first place!"

Well, of course, the "ruddy mess" had started the moment they had agreed to come here, but there was nothing they could do about that.

"Very well, then we will find this phone and then I will call for guards to bring you back to the camp and to help me find General Burkhalter and the others," Klink said. "Now follow me."

Hogan shook his head, but he knew that they had no other choice. He headed back through the exhibits again, the others behind him.

"This is getting us nowhere fast," Hogan said, after some time. "Colonel, I really don't think this is a good idea; we can just as easily find a phone in one of the buildings nearby. You can make the call from there. In fact, it may be safer for you, too; you won't be able to help the others if you disappear."

LeBeau suddenly yelled out an exclamation in French as they entered the room where the von Siedelberg figure had been. The tableau was no longer empty, but it wasn't the von Siedelberg figure back on it; instead, the figure was of a blonde woman in a beautiful ball gown, curtsying before a suitor.

Hogan's eyes widened, unable to stop his jaw from falling open as he took a step forward to take a closer look at the figure.

"Hilda…?"

" _Was_? _Was_?" Klink exclaimed, hearing Hogan. He squinted through his monocle. "Somebody get the lights on!"

Kinch, who was closest, obliged. As the lights came on, it became clear that the figure of the woman was indeed Hilda—either an incredible likeness, or… maybe not a likeness at all… maybe… maybe it really _was_ Hilda?

Olsen had come to that conclusion, looking visibly ill. Carter's eyes were wide open, recalling the movie he had seen.

Klink could only stare at the figure that so much resembled his secretary.

"It can't be possible…!" he said, shaking his head. "It just cannot be possible! Are we expected to believe that whoever made Hilda disappear made her reappear as… _this_?"

Hogan stepped over the felt barrier placing his fingers on the figure's wax cheek. Yes, it was wax, alright, but what was beneath it?

"Colonel…?" Newkirk asked. "Colonel, is she—?"

"I don't know what to think," Hogan said. It couldn't be her, as Klink said. But… what if it _was_ her? The wax was very warm to the touch, as though it was fresh… Could someone have had her encased in wax so quickly?

Just the possibility had Hogan's heart twisting.

 _She had been depending on you, Nimrod or not. You owed her that much, after everything she's done for you_ …

Hogan suddenly punched the wall beside Hilda's statue, not caring if Klink saw how upset he was.

And Klink did see, seemingly surprised by Hogan's reaction.

"Hogan, you were not responsible for Fraulein Hilda," he said. "Besides that, I am certain this cannot be her; she wasn't missing long enough for… this!"

"That's what I thought, but it could be some sick, new way of making figures," Hogan replied.

Still, Klink had a point; there was no sense in jumping to conclusions when this could easily be a ploy to unnerve them.

"If this is a sick joke, then we have to find out where the real Hilda is," Kinch said. "To say nothing of everyone else who's gone missing."

"Oh, no…" Klink said, his eyes widening.

He pushed on ahead through the rooms that Newkirk had previously opened.

"Follow him!" Hogan ordered. "We're not losing track of him, too!"

He vaulted over the felt barrier, following behind Klink with his men. They crossed to the room where the figures of the dead officers had been; Klink had stopped here, expecting to see one of the other missing men in the empty tableau among the figures, but the tableau was still empty.

"Nothing," Klink said, exhaling in relief.

"Don't celebrate too soon," Hogan said. "I have a feeling that whoever's behind this is just waiting to put up some new additions."

"But why, Hogan?" Klink asked, asking not with suspicion, but with genuine fear for his life.

"It's psychological warfare," the American said. "As for the reason behind that in the first place, well… Whoever's behind this will let us know after we've played their game for long enough."

_And that might not be until it's too late for us to do anything about it. What can you do against an unseen enemy, anyway?_

"You keep saying 'we' as though you're suggesting that this madman isn't making any distinctions between us Germans and you Allies," Klink said. "So far, it is only us Germans who have vanished—meaning that _I_ will be next! Why do you insist on returning to Stalag 13 when you might very well be safer here? You were saying that you had some sort of hunch earlier; if you feel as though this is against you and your men, then why are the Germans the first ones to go?"

"I don't have all the answers!" Hogan said. "All I know is that I have to think of the safety of my men, and we are not safe here!"

Klink looked to Hogan in surprise; for the first time, he seemed to be seeing Hogan's vulnerability. The fact that he had never seen Hogan so unnerved—so visibly taxed—was beginning to unnerve Klink further, as well.

"Then… we are in the same boat now—you and I," Klink stated. "Hogan, I will agree to help you and your men get out of here if you agree to do the same for me and the others who vanished."

Hogan gave Klink a searching look. Yes, Klink was always out to save his own skin, but something seemed different about him this time. Hogan couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but he knew that he couldn't afford to turn down Klink's agreement; without Klink to verify their story, they could easily be accused of having done away with the Germans in an attempt to escape.

"You have yourself a deal," Hogan said.

"I thank you, Hogan," Klink said. "And I feel that if we wish to make any headway in this mystery, we should look at that room where Hilda vanished."

"Can't we take a vote on this?" Carter asked. "You know, I think Hilda showing up was just a beginning. That's how it always is—the beautiful girl goes first, and then everyone else goes one by one—"

Newkirk clapped a hand over Carter's mouth and pulled him along, turning his attention to LeBeau, who had a look in his eyes that the Englishman recognized all too well.

"Louis?" he asked, quietly, as they followed Hogan and Klink. "What are you thinking about?"

"I am thinking that you will be needing to use your pencil sharpener once we find out who is behind this," LeBeau said, darkly. "I will not stand idly by and watch as this _demon_ moves to destroy us one at a time; I will slay the monster first!"

"Admirable sentiments, Louis, but the way things are going, you'll end up a statue like the rest of this lot," Newkirk said. "And I ain't letting me little mate become an attraction in this 'ouse of 'orrors."

Carter gave a quiet, muffled agreement, nodding.

"Then you must surely agree with me that we need to strike first before another one of us vanishes!" LeBeau whispered. "They will be expecting us to go back to the room where Hilda disappeared!"

Carter let out another muffled reply, prompting Newkirk to give him a glare.

"I'll let you talk if you promise me it 'as nothing to do with that film."

Carter nodded again, and Newkirk released him.

"Okay, so maybe they _are_ expecting us to be there in that room," the sergeant said, quietly but rapidly. "But what if they expected us to expect that they'd be waiting for us, so they're really hiding somewhere else?"

He was met by the corporals' blank stares.

"It's the old reverse psychology trick," Carter went on, seeing that they hadn't followed a word of what he had just said.

"I do not care where they are," LeBeau hissed. "They had better care about what I will do to them! I will not be trapped here and toyed with like I am some kind of… of…" He trailed off, struggling to find the right words.

"Look, Louis, you know that I'm with you in this," Newkirk said. "But the Guv'nor knows what 'e's doing. After all those missions, we've come this far, and we're still alive; I'd like to think that this is no different—"

Klink suddenly let out a curse in his own tongue. They had arrived back into the chamber of horrors, and, here, a new set of figures was on display that they had expected, but had not wanted to see.

"What was that you were saying just now about reverse psychology?" LeBeau hissed to Carter.

"Well, it was just a theory…"

"Leave off; we've got bigger problems, we 'ave…"

They, and the others, could do little more than stare at the scene in front of them.

Janos Skorzeny had been moved so that he was now attacking a group of four well-dressed travelers, and playing the part of the travelers were Schultz, Langenscheidt, Burkhalter, and Hochstetter.

The mysterious wax sculptor had struck again.


	7. It's Personal

Hogan slowly felt Langenscheidt's wax face and shook his head.

"The wax is very warm here, too," he said, after feeling Schultz's face to confirm it. "They couldn't have been here for more than five minutes."

Klink's expression switched from shock to a scowl.

"I don't care how hot the wax is; you cannot expect me to believe that such perfect… encasings were done so quickly! Someone made these figures in advance and kept them warm for us to believe otherwise!"

Hogan mulled over this for a moment. Klink had a point; hadn't the von Siedelberg figure been there when they had arrived?

"Even if you're right, it doesn't answer what happened to the real McCoys," Hogan said, now crossing towards the other door. "What's in here?"

"We never went that far," Newkirk reminded him, slowly edging ahead of Hogan so that he could work his magic on the door again.

Kinch now distracted Klink by questioning how the figures might have been placed here in such a short amount of time. Klink didn't have any answers; he was just as lost as everyone else—which was unusual, seeing as though they were usually good at staying ahead of him at every turn.

"All I could tell you is that whoever did this must have some very fast way of getting in and out around here—carrying a heavy load or two, as well," Klink said. "And they also must be somewhat psychotic, too, if they really want to try to make us believe that these statues are what's left of the real people."

"There's something else that bothers me," Carter said. "That blank tableau where all the tribute figures were standing around… Who's going to be standing on that? Everyone is that display is dead; does that mean that whoever disappears next and gets placed there will be killed?"

No one replied him; they all just exchanged uneasy glances. Given how deranged their unknown captor was quickly proving himself to be, no one doubted that Carter's theory was possible.

"I got the door unstuck," Newkirk announced, breaking the eerie silence as it creaked open.

He reached inside and switched on the lights, illuminating a room depicting wax recreations of various scenes from the Grimms' fairy tales. The charming prince was kneeling beside Snow White in her glass coffin, surrounded by the seven dwarves, as the wicked queen leered at them from nearby. A few yards from them, the Big Bad Wolf confronted Red Riding Hood. Past them, Hansel and Gretel stared hungrily at an edible house; the sneering witch was visible through the window.

Across from Snow White, Cinderella and her prince danced, a slipper missing from one of her feet. Past them, Rapunzel looked down from her tower as Gothel called up to her from the ground to carry her up. And in the center of the room, Rumpelstiltskin surveyed all of the scenes, apparently wringing his hands and carrying a smug, toothy grin on his face.

"The way they've set this up, it's as though Rumpelstiltskin is pulling all of the bloomin' strings around 'ere…" Newkirk commented, somewhat unnerved by Rumpelstiltskin's expression.

"I don't like the looks of that evil queen," Carter said, as he spotted her glaring at Snow White and the prince. "She looks like someone who could just move into a small town in Maine and continue her reign from there!"

"And that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever," Klink said, shaking his head.

Carter shrugged, deciding that this wasn't the time or place to discuss where Maine was.

Hogan now led everyone inside the room through the narrow doorway. He took note that there was an empty tableau near Gothel, as though whoever in that position would be observing from afar.

"Here's another spot," he announced.

"I expect it would be for the prince in the story," Klink said. "He would observe Gothel coming to check on Rapunzel, and would visit Rapunzel himself when he was sure that Gothel wasn't there."

"Gothel…" Hogan repeated.

He inwardly cringed; hadn't the person who had claimed that Nimrod was in danger gone under the code name of Mother Gothel? …Perhaps there was some sort of clue or message in the Gothel statue?

Now intrigued, Hogan stepped over the felt barrier again, glancing at the empty tableau first. He knelt beside it; taking note of how new and clean the tableau was.

"See anything?" Klink asked, following behind him.

"Nothing," the colonel said. "Not even a few traces of wax or dust; this tableau hasn't even been used at all." He stood up and faced the statue of Gothel. _This one, on the other hand, could have something_.

There did seem to be something in Gothel's hand—a piece of paper. Whether it was a taunt or information, it could at least have something that might help them—perhaps handwriting styles or maybe a legitimate clue…

" _Colonel, attention! Le plancher_!" LeBeau suddenly cried out in his own tongue.

Hogan didn't understand what he had said, but he soon figured it out on his own—as he stepped forward, the panel of floor under his foot suddenly vanished beneath him. A yell escaped him as he plunged downward, only to be stopped in mid-fall; Klink had grabbed Hogan's arm at the last second.

The rest of the Heroes were at their side in an instant, helping to pull their commanding officer to safety. Hogan waited for them to pull him up before he exhaled in relief, wiping the sweat from his brow.

A mechanical clanking was heard now, and the panel swung back up, rejoining the floor, looking completely inconspicuous.

"LeBeau," Hogan said, after he had caught his breath. "It's not that I don't appreciate you trying to warn me, but, next time, can you give a warning in a language I can actually understand?"

"Sorry, _Colonel_ … Force of habit…"

Newkirk placed a hand on LeBeau's shoulder; it wasn't his fault, of course, but LeBeau would likely feel bad that he hadn't been able to give a proper warning that would've actually helped.

"And you…" Hogan said, turning to Klink, who looked about as stunned as the others were with the knowledge of what he had just done. "Thanks, Colonel."

It seemed so inadequate, but Hogan didn't know what else to say, considering what had just happened and who had just saved him.

Klink nodded, letting out a sigh; he wasn't so sure of what to say, either.

"Now I believe you; whoever is behind this is not making any distinction between the Allies and the Germans," he said.

 _Yeah, and I'd be as big a catch as Nimrod_ , Hogan said to himself. _And that's probably what they want_.

Taking care to avoid the trapdoor, Newkirk now stepped lightly towards the figure of Mother Gothel and took the piece of paper in her hand, slipping it into his pocket. Even if Klink had just saved Hogan, it was still a risk to let him know about the paper, in case it was something related to their organization.

Hogan got to his feet now, taking note of the look that Newkirk gave him, nodding in response. When they had a chance, he would look into that paper; hopefully, it would be somewhat helpful.

"Hey, Colonel!" Carter suddenly exclaimed, looking at the Cinderella display. "Look—next to the ballroom set, they have a set-up of the fireplace where she used to sweep the cinders away."

"So?" Olsen asked.

"Take a closer look; there's something in that fireplace," Carter said.

"Check it out, but be careful," Hogan instructed.

The sergeant nodded, heading to the fireplace as swift and sure as his Sioux name. He rooted through the ashes for a moment, and pulled out a mostly-burned document from within the other ashes.

"Someone tried to camouflage this!" he said. "I think it's a passport!"

 _At last, a solid clue_ , Hogan thought, taking it from Carter. It was, indeed, a passport—or had been, at least. The colonel held it up to the light, trying to see if any of the writing was still visible.

"Carter's right, but the name and signature are beyond recognition," he said, shaking his head as bits of burned paper fell from it. "But if we could get a better light focused on it, I might be able to figure out where it was issued."

"Not to mention that we just confirmed that someone here has something to hide," Kinch said. "They didn't want anyone finding that passport."

"Then it must be one of yours," Klink said. "Well, not yours personally, but to someone from the Allies…"

The others turned to stare at him.

"How did you come up with that?" Carter asked, surprised. "You haven't even seen it yet!"

"It also stands to reason that whoever owned that passport doesn't belong in Germany," Klink said. "If they did, they wouldn't have gone through the trouble of hiding that they were allowed to be here."

Hogan could only blink in amazement. It wasn't because Klink was right; it made sense now, and one of them would've likely come to that conclusion soon enough, but the fact that they hadn't done it first didn't speak so well for them.

Deciding that it was a product of their being on edge, Hogan decided to ignore it for now. They needed to get their wits about them, or they were going to fall headlong into even more traps.

"Colonel, I think I saw a flashlight in that first storage closet," Newkirk said, deciding to break the awkward silence again. "It was back where I was opening the doors for 'ochstetter; it should still be there, but with all the goings-on 'ere, I wouldn't bet me life on it."

"Neither would I, but it's worth a look if it'll help us figure out what's going on around here," Hogan agreed. "Let's head back the way we came, and be careful when you go through that Chamber of Horrors—that's where Hilda vanished, so there's bound to be another one of those trapdoors set up there."

"I could lead the way," Klink offered. "I've had enough practice looking for your tunnels to notice any anomalies in the floor."

The other stared at him again, now for a different reason; after hiding underground for so long, they didn't think too much of Klink's "floor anomaly detection" skills. Carter had to bite his lip and look away nonchalantly.

"…Yeah," Hogan said, after a moment. "You do that." He cast a look to Kinch that clearly said, "Please look for them, too."

The staff sergeant responded with a fervent nod. And as Klink and Kinch stared carefully at the ground as they headed back to the lobby, Hogan pulled back to where Newkirk was walking, staying just in front of him.

"Newkirk, that paper you got from Gothel…"

"I 'ave it right 'ere, Guv," the corporal whispered, slipping it out of his pocket. "You want it now?"

"No, just tell me what's on it; I don't want Klink to see me reading it until I know what it is."

"Right-o," the Englishman said, un-crumpling it.

LeBeau, who was standing by Newkirk's right side, also took a look at it, blinking in surprise.

"It is not a message or a clue at all," the Frenchman said, quietly, seeing a few scribbled notes and diagrams on the paper.

"What is it?" Hogan asked,

"It's a diagram of some of the exhibits," Newkirk whispered. "Just an organization list of what is supposed to go where…"

" _Anything_ useful at all?" Hogan asked, disappointed that he had risked his life for a worthless piece of paper.

He frowned as Newkirk didn't respond. Hogan turned slightly, surprised to see that the Englishman was now going pale, his hazel eyes widening.

"Newkirk?"

"Pierre, what is it?" LeBeau asked, concerned.

"…Would you consider a warning or a threat useful?"

" _What_?" Hogan asked, flatly.

"That exhibit with General von Linzter and all the other dead officers… You know 'ow they were surrounding that empty tableau, and Andrew was wondering who was supposed to go on it? Well, this piece of paper gives the details of who goes onto that central tableau."

"Who?" Hogan asked, as LeBeau struggled and failed to read the paper in Newkirk's hands due to his lack of height.

"…You, Guv."

" _Quoi_?" LeBeau asked, stunned.

Hogan stared at Newkirk wordlessly, and the corporal handed the paper over to the colonel, his gaze shifting all around in his unease.

The diagram was simple—a large rectangle designating the parameter of the exhibit, with the names of the figures in ovals, representing the tableaus. Sure enough, in the central tableau, someone had scrawled "Colonel Robert E. Hogan (Papa Bear)," and the name under the rectangle was but a single word: "Revenge."


	8. The Chessmaster's Next Move

Hogan stared long and hard at the paper before crumpling it back up in a fury.

" _Colonel_ , we will not let them do it!" LeBeau vowed. "We will not let them take you!"

"Louis' right, Sir," Newkirk said, emphatically. "I ain't about to let any of me mates become attractions 'ere, and certainly not—"

"And just how are you going to stop them from making their next move?" Hogan asked, quietly. "So far, everything they've done has gone according to their plan, except for Klink just happening to be close enough to me to stop me from falling through that trapdoor and joining the others!"

"I think I know what might 'elp, Sir," Newkirk said. "While Klink is looking through the storage closets for the flashlight, I can unlock the front door, or maybe a window; you can sneak out, and we can pretend that you vanished."

Hogan gave Newkirk a sharp look, and the corporal understood exactly what was on the colonel's mind.

"Don't think of it as you running away, Guv; a good soldier knows when to retreat. And besides that, well… That paper was right, you know." Newkirk hushed his voice further. "You are the most important one out of all of us; compared to you, we're expendable."

Hogan inwardly winced at Newkirk's words and at LeBeau's nod of agreement; it was London that seemed to give orders without much regard for his men. He often felt that London indeed considered his men to be expendable, and it sickened him to think that his men had resigned themselves to that idea.

"You are _not_ expendable," he hissed, surprising the corporals with the noticeable edge in his voice.

"Well, we ain't as important as you, at any rate," Newkirk said. "Please, Guv; if you're out there, doing what you do, we'll 'ave a better time of it knowing we've actually got a chance!"

"That only works when I know what I'm doing," Hogan whispered back, trying not to look at the empty tableau that was slated for him as they passed through the room that contained it. "And I'm at a loss; aside from finding out who's behind this, we need to find a way to get to the bottom level without falling through a trapdoor. Even if I come back with the reserves or members from the Underground, we're still stymied; they might end up catching all of us regardless of how many I bring."

"We do know that there must be a way between the rooms that we cannot see," LeBeau. "If only we can find that, we can probably end up in the lower levels on our own."

"And it's that 'if' that has us in this mess," the colonel replied. "We're all a mess right now—nervous and edgy. We're not getting anything accomplished because we're waiting for the next one of us to vanish."

"Wouldn't it make more sense, then, for you to get out of 'ere, at least for a little while, and clear your 'ead?"

Hogan sighed. There was that, but then there was also the chance of him coming back to find that everyone had been taken.

"Think about it for a while, Guv; it would take me only a minute to get that front door open, or I could even try a window; I could do it now or after we leave that storage area. Just let me know."

Hogan gave a nod; it was worth considering, at any rate.

As they arrived in the storage area, they found the doors locked again; Newkirk got them opened fairly quickly, insisting that they were stuck, for Klink's benefit. The German colonel didn't contradict him, instead focusing on trying to find a flashlight. Suddenly, he froze.

" _Was is das_ …?"

Carter now peeked in to see what Klink was looking for, and his eyes widened.

"Holy smoke! It's a box of money—American money!"

"Aha!" Klink exclaimed. "I told you—this is by someone on your side! …Granted, someone disgruntled enough to try to trap you, as well…"

Hogan sighed to himself.

_Great. Who did I annoy back home enough for them to want to take revenge on me? Which traitor knows all there is to know about us and would willingly try to trap us here?_

Had they processed a mole pretending to be a downed flier at some point? No, that wouldn't have made this so personal; whoever was behind this had unbridled hatred for _them_ more than what their organization was doing.

"There is something else here," Klink said, pulling a deck of cards from the box. "Though I don't know why he would keep these with the money."

"Can I see that, Sir?" Newkirk asked, frowning as he looked at the cards.

Klink handed them over, and the Englishman stared at them, mesmerized. They didn't seem out of the ordinary; they were a set of playing cards with a normal, red-and-white patterned background. Newkirk owned a similar deck with a blue-and-white background, but something about this particular deck was trying to click in his mind.

"Newkirk?" Hogan asked. "What is it?"

"I don't quite know, Guv'nor," he replied. "But as odd as it sounds, I think I remember these cards."

"Well, if there's anyone who could remember a deck of cards, it's you," Kinch commented. "But what does it mean?"

"I could tell you that once I actually remember where it is I saw these cards…" the Englishman said, turning the deck over. He blinked—all four kings were at the bottom of the deck.

And that seemed so familiar, too—aside from that fact that it was one of the oldest tricks in the book; dealing from the bottom of the deck to benefit the dealer. Newkirk was sure he had seen that before, and not from himself, either.

He cast a silent glance at LeBeau, who shrugged helplessly; if Newkirk didn't remember anything related to the cards, then the Frenchman was not likely to, either.

"Forget the cards for now," Hogan instructed. "And you can forget the flashlight, too, Colonel Klink; that money you found proves that this is an American's doing."

Klink nodded, and he turned to leave the storage closet, but, suddenly, a rickety sound, similar to the clanking gears they had heard from the trapdoor before, filled the room again. The storage closet door was pulled shut, trapping Klink inside and catching the sleeve of Carter's jacket as he tried in vain to try to stop the door from closing.

"Colonel Klink!" Hogan yelled, pounding on the door. "Colonel!"

There was no reply; only more clanking responded him. Without a doubt, another trapdoor was opening, taking Klink with it; it was probably the same one that had made Hochstetter and Burkhalter disappear.

Hogan pounded on the door again, this time out of sheer anger and frustration. Klink had saved him back in the fairy tale room, and Hogan had been unable to return the favor. It also meant that all possible Nimrod candidates were now in their captor's hands. And with all of them gone, it meant that they would start disappearing next.

"Guv'nor," Newkirk said, quietly, as he read Hogan's expression all too well. "Guv'nor, it's not your fault. You said it yourself earlier; none of us are thinking straight. This is all a bloomin' ploy to unnerve us… and it just 'appens to be working far beyond anyone's wildest dreams…"

He now opened the door of the storage closet, allowing Carter to free himself and revealing that Klink had, indeed, vanished.

" _Colonel_ , I think you should go along with Pierre's earlier idea," LeBeau said. "This is a cruel game of chess—and everyone knows that in a game of chess, you must protect the king at all costs."

Hogan stared at the empty space for a moment before sighing.

"I hate to think that this is the only option," he said. "But seeing as though our adversary already has Nimrod, we can't let him get Papa Bear, too."

"Exactly," Kinch said. "Newkirk can get you out of here through a window; that might be better, seeing as though Hochstetter's men are right out in front."

"Right," the colonel said, though his voice clearly betrayed his disdain for the idea of running away, as he was convinced he was doing. "But I want someone else to come with me; in the event that Hochstetter's men do find out our move, I want to ensure that someone makes it back to camp to get our reserves. The four of you who remain will continue looking for the missing ones."

The five NCOs exchanged glances. They knew what this meant; one of them would be in a considerably safer position while the other four would be at great risk.

"Volunteering to stay 'ere, Guv," Newkirk said, causing everyone to cast a surprised look at the self-confessed "natural coward."

LeBeau seemed to understand, though; more than the Englishman's fear for himself was his fear for his friends.

" _Oui_ , Colonel; I will stay here, too."

"You can count me in, too, Boy. Uh, Sir."

"And I'll stay here, too," Olsen said.

"Now wait a minute!" Kinch said, frowning. "You can't—"

"Look, Kinch, as the second in command, you need to be kept as safe as the Guv'nor," Newkirk pointed out. "I've got to stay 'ere to let you lot back in when you return."

"There's no time for these discussions!" Hogan snapped, once again sounding harsher than he had intended. "Kinch, they volunteered to stay; you're coming with me."

Kinch sighed and nodded; he didn't like the idea of leaving the others behind any more than Hogan did.

"Don't worry about us; we'll be fine," Carter assured him, as they headed back to the lobby.

Newkirk got to work at once.

"'ere you are, Guv," the corporal said, as he got one of the windows unlocked. "Nothing to it. And the coast seems to be clear out there."

"Right…" Hogan said.

He slipped out of the window, quietly, and Kinch followed him.

"It's going to take us a while to get back to camp and get back here, but we'll be here," Hogan promised. "Just try to hang in there. Stick together; that's going to be your one …"

He trailed off; the four men were right by the window, but there was a fifth man in the room—standing in the back of the room by the light switch. The colonel got a brief glimpse of a dark-haired man just as the lights went out, and he yelled out a warning.

A struggle started inside, and Hogan now attempted to vault back into the room, but someone—Newkirk, he expected—had quickly shut and locked the window again to keep him out of it.

"Newkirk!" Hogan fumed. "Newkirk, if you don't open this window, it's going to be missing its glass in a minute!"

"Colonel, you'll have Hochstetter's men out here if we don't leave!" Kinch said. This was hard for him, too, leaving his comrades in the midst of an ambush, but he, as well as the colonel, knew all too well that they had to proceed with their original plan to get help for them rather than risk entering the fray.

Kinch headed towards the wooded area nearby, with Hogan following, the both of them looking over their shoulders as they retreated.

Inside the darkened lobby, Newkirk had, indeed, been the one to close and re-lock the window; his idea had been to ensure Hogan's safety from their assailant.

His attention was soon diverted, however, by a sharp cry from LeBeau, followed by a yelp from Carter; it sounded as though someone had sent the Frenchman flying into Carter. But before Newkirk could call out to them, he found himself choked by an arm around his neck, trying to drag him off.

"Well, Newkirk," a voice whispered in his ear. It sounded very familiar, but the Englishman couldn't place it in the heat of the moment. "This is an interesting reversal, isn't it? Come along quietly… unless, to quote you, 'You want to get killed—not that I care.'"

With his gasping breaths, the Englishman cursed his attacker, trying to elbow him in the stomach. When that didn't work, he tried to grab at a small chain around the man's neck, which only broke off in his hand.

LeBeau now let out a furious flurry of French curses. Newkirk heard his captor grunt in pain, and then the man allowed him to fall. Newkirk let out a set of gasping breaths as the pressure around his neck was lifted, just barely able to hear the sound of retreating feet, followed by the now-unpleasant sound of clanking gears; their captor had made his escape through one of his trapdoors.

Carter now hit the lights, and let out a cry—both at the sight of Newkirk nearly passed out, and also at the fact that Olsen was nowhere to be found.

"He took him!" the sergeant exclaimed. "He took Olsen with him!"

LeBeau was fanning Newkirk's face, furious as he realized that he had not been able to save Olsen, too.

"He had tried to get Pierre, as well," he said, needing to catch his breath, as well, from his fury. "He would have taken the both of them had I not intervened! …I would have done something for Olsen had I known—!"

"Well, we can still do something for him!" Carter said, clenching a fist. "For him and everyone else who vanished—don't forget that he got Nimrod, too! And we're going to do our best to help them until the colonel and Kinch get back!"

" _Oui_ , we will," LeBeau agreed.

And Newkirk, still trying to ignore the overwhelming dizziness managed a nod of agreement, but his mind was still on the voice that had been taunting him during the fight; LeBeau had not said anything about hearing the whisper; Newkirk had to assume that he hadn't heard it. But Newkirk was trying to wrack his shaken brain to figure out to whom he had said those words.

The words, the voice, the money, the burnt passport, and the playing cards they had found all swam around in his mind, making no sense—not yet, at any rate. Things were still trying to click, and it was all Newkirk could to hope that he would be able to make the connection.

If they knew who they were up against, it might give them a chance at last. And a chance was something they desperately needed.


	9. Puzzle Pieces

Hogan and Kinch were not too far into the woods when the colonel audibly cursed. Getting out of the museum and into relative safety hadn't done much to ease the colonel's frustrations.

"This was a bad idea; I knew I should've gone with my gut instincts and just stuck with it over there. We were close to figuring out who it was; I even got a quick glimpse of the guy as we were leaving."

"Sir, with all due respect, you can't keep kicking yourself for anything that happened—even us leaving," Kinch said. "I know exactly how you feel; I once had to leave Newkirk, LeBeau, and Carter to a German patrol when we got lost one night, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," Hogan said. "But this is different. That was just a freak accident; as far as tonight goes, I may as well have surrendered those four to some crazed, card-playing traitor whose real motive is to get rid of me."

He paused in his tracks, his eyes widening as pieces started falling into place.

 _A crazed, card-playing traitor_ …

"Colonel?" Kinch asked, as he now stopped.

"I'm not sure exactly," Hogan said. "But I've got a feeling that with me out here, our captor is going to be taking out his frustrations on Newkirk. …And that also means that he won't be expecting me to come back for a while; if I went back there right now, I could finally take _him_ by surprise."

"We're going back?" Kinch asked, confused.

"You keep going," Hogan instructed.

Kinch gave Hogan an unreadable look.

"…Is that an order?"

"I hate to say it, but it is," Hogan said. "Just wait for one second before you go…"

The colonel hastily pulled a pencil and paper from his pocket and scribbled out a message.

"When you get back to Stalag 13, give this message to Baker and have him transmit it to London over the emergency wavelength. And have him use the backup code, too."

"But if I'm supposed to bring him and the rest of the reserves back here, how does that work?"

"You're not bringing them back here now," Hogan announced. "Just in case, I want them getting ready for a possible evacuation if this plan of mine ends up going as badly as everything else has been so far. But don't worry about that; I think I've finally got my touch back now that I have a clue."

"What else do you want me to do?" Kinch asked.

"I want you to impersonate Klink's voice—get Captain Gruber to send a squad of guards to the wax museum. Tell him there's a riot or something; just make sure a squad is mobilized and on their way here. And then get back here as fast as you can; I know that's asking a lot out of you, but you have to be accounted for here if my plan works and we succeed in freeing everyone."

"I understand. I'll go right away, but be sure to fill me in when I get back," Kinch requested, sensing that this wasn't the time or the place to ask Hogan to recount what he was thinking.

"I'll do that," Hogan said. "Good luck out there."

Kinch nodded, hoping that the colonel hadn't made a decision that he was going to end up regretting. Still, Hogan seemed a lot more confident now—more confident than when this mess had started, at any rate.

Hogan could feel it for himself, too.

 _This is a chess game, is it? Well, the king doesn't get to do much for the first half of the game, but once he gets out there, kid gloves are off. Let's see what this king can do now that he knows who he's playing against_.

That thought in his head, he headed back the way he had come, towards the museum.

* * *

Newkirk was shaking off the last of the mental cobwebs as LeBeau helped him to his feet, still clutching onto the small chain he had wrenched from his assailant; he still wasn't paying much attention to it, though.

"Are you sure you are alright, Pierre?"

"Yeah," Newkirk promised, his voice starting to sound less scratchy. "Thanks to you, Louis; your timing was impeccable."

"What's that you've got in your hand?" Carter asked, as he and LeBeau made sure that Newkirk was able to steady himself.

"Oh, this? Ripped it off the bloke's neck when 'e was trying to choke me."

"It looks like the chain my dog tags are on," Carter said, pulling his dog tags into view to compare them.

LeBeau's eyes widened.

"Pierre, if you were able to take the dog tag chain off, the tags themselves must have fallen, too! If we find them, we can find out who is doing this to us!" He dropped to his knees, looking around.

"They couldn't have fallen far," Carter said, also looking around. "Hopefully, they didn't fall into a crack or something like that…"

"It would be nice to go on something other than the fact that our captor is a card shark," Newkirk said. "One who likes to toss me own words back at me."

"What do you mean?" LeBeau asked.

"When 'e was trying to choke me, 'e threw back words 'e claimed that I'd said to 'im: 'Unless you want to get killed—not that I care.' Now that the oxygen's getting back into me brain, I think I do remember saying that once."

"I remember you saying that, too," LeBeau said, blinking. "I think we were breaking someone out of the cooler who wanted to betray us; we were taking him to Colonel Hogan, and we were both angry."

Newkirk's eyes suddenly widened, and he pulled out the deck of red-backed cards.

"Louis!" he exclaimed. "That poker game in the barracks with that traitor, Williams! It was with these cards—and the kings were on the bottom of the deck! Cor blimey… That explains it all! That's 'ow 'e knew all about those missions and created those statues of the dead officers to unnerve us!"

LeBeau punctuated Newkirk's sentences with a few of the more colorful words in his vocabulary as Carter now found one of the fallen dog tags.

"Peter's right—Jack Williams," he said, staring at the tag, stunned. "But… I don't understand… We sent him to England to be tried; how did he get away?"

"That's something we'll 'ave to ask 'im now that we know who we're dealing with," Newkirk said, his eyes narrowing. "But I'm willing to bet that 'e 'ad a bit of 'elp. Just like we 'ave Nimrod posing flawlessly as a German, there's more than likely a counterpart to 'im posing as an Ally. If anything, we should've expected it."

"You give me five minutes alone with Williams," LeBeau hissed. "I vow I will make him talk!"

"Easy, Little Mate," Newkirk said, grasping the Frenchman's shoulder. "I 'ate to say it, but Olsen's probably spending five minutes alone with that conniver right now. We're going to 'ave to go about this the way the Guv'nor would."

"Well, for the moment, we do outnumber him," Carter said. "Even if the proprietor of the place is involved—that's something else we have to ask Williams when we finally confront him."

"And there's something that just might 'elp us with that, Andrew," Newkirk said. "You were the only other one in camp that Williams was borderline civil towards; 'e seems to 'ave a liking for you, and that might be the proverbial ace up our sleeve to counter 'is deck-bottom kings."

"Why did I have to be so lucky?" Carter muttered, disgusted that he had such a tie to that traitor. He'd had a feeling that the only reason Williams had acted friendly towards him was because Williams, like most everyone else in camp, had considered Carter to be a klutzy pushover.

The sergeant pushed the thought aside; now wasn't the time to dwell on how he didn't seem to be taken seriously. If Williams was still presuming him to be a pushover, then Carter was going to give him an unpleasant surprise indeed.

"We 'ave to go about this carefully," Newkirk continued. "For one thing, we 'ave to stay together—so no five minutes with 'im alone, Louis… at least, not until we get the bloomin' twister where we want 'im."

LeBeau grunted in reply, his eyes scanning the lobby for something he could use as an improvised weapon.

"We also can't wait for 'im to show up again to try to take another one of us," Newkirk went on. "This time, _we_ 'ave to take the battle to ' _im_."

"But if we go down the trapdoor, we have no guarantee of what kind of landing we have," LeBeau said. "What if we need to retreat? There will be no easy way up from that! Given how Williams is, one misstep is all we need to fall to him! What are we supposed to do then?"

"…The walls," Carter said, quietly, prompting the corporals to look his way.

"What about the walls?" Newkirk asked.

"He's got to be coming through the walls!" Carter said. "Think about it! We know he's not using the doors since we can see them, and it'd be difficult for him to use trapdoors to come up—and it'd be downright impossible to do if he had a load of wax figures to bring up, which we know he had. I'm telling you, the walls must be filled with passageways; he probably copied our entire tunnel system design and replaced the ladder-trapdoor entrance combos with wall panels! All we have to do is find out where one of the walls opens up, and we can find our way down to the bottom level with a way to get back!"

LeBeau considered this for a moment and nodded. It did seem like the best idea they had to finally turn this around and go on the offensive.

"We should look in that room with the Chamber of Horrors," he said. "That is where most of those figures turned up earlier. If Williams was able to get them there so quickly, the wall panel must be there—or one of them, at the very least."

"Right-o," Newkirk said. "But mind where you step; we don't need any more trapdoors surprising us. I'd rather we face Williams as a party of three."

Carter found some semblance of a solution; he grabbed one of the curtain rods and used it to feel ahead if the floorboards moved unnaturally.

"You look like someone hiking through a bog, trying to see if there's quicksand," Newkirk commented.

"Hey, you were the one who said, 'Mind where you step…'" Carter trailed off as they passed the dead officers statues. Williams had, within the last several minutes, set up plaques with the names of the statues, and had a thin, wooden plaque with Hogan's name on it on the empty tableau.

LeBeau silently responded by ripping the plaque off of the tableau in a fury as they passed by.

"Still he tries to unnerve us," he furiously hissed. "This is all one sick and twisted game to him!"

"Like I said before, 'e's been doing a good job of trying to unnerve us. The important thing is that the Guv'nor is where Williams can't get at 'im."

Carter now opened the door to the Chamber of Horrors, freezing in his tracks.

"He's still going all-out, even though he probably realizes we're onto him," the sergeant said.

He politely ignored LeBeau and Newkirk's vehement outbursts as they got sight of the new figures of Klink and Olsen set up with the others, with Janos Skorzeny still leering at all of them. Newkirk was the one who confirmed that the wax was warm, scowling as he made the announcement.

LeBeau, in the meantime, was now tapping his fist against various parts of the wall, trying to sense which part of the wall was hollow.

"Pierre! Andre! I think I found it! All we need is to find the switch!"

"Well, it has to be near the part of the wall," Carter said, as he got to his knees to see if there was a switch on the floor.

LeBeau inspected the rest of the wall as Newkirk looked at the nearby figures. The Englishman glanced at a figure of a mysterious strangler, a tie in his hands, ready to wrap around the neck of his next victim.

 _Just like the one who created this figure_ , Newkirk silently muttered, absently feeling his own sore neck from where Williams had choked him. _And maybe that is a clue that twister didn't count on_.

That in mind, Newkirk gave a tug on the tie in the figure's hands. The sound of clanking gears followed again, and Carter and LeBeau looked up as the panel of wall moved aside, revealing a darkened passage.

"Newkirk, you did it!" Carter grinned. He quickly sobered as he realized that they were heading right to the lion's den.

"I don't reckon I've done anything just yet," the Englishman said. "Tell me that later after I get us through this. Give me that curtain rod; we never did get that flashlight, so we're going to 'ave to use that to avoid any unwanted spills."

Carter handed over the curtain rod, and now it was Newkirk's turn to act as a bog explorer as he slowly led the way into the passageway, with his two comrades behind him. The three men gave a slight start as the gears moved again; the panel closed behind them, plunging the passage into complete darkness and trapping them inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, the mastermind is Williams, from the season 3 episode "One in Every Crowd." The whole idea for this fic came about after seeing Williams' actor turn up in the 1953 version of House of Wax, so this is something I had in mind since the very beginning.


	10. Your Move

Back at Stalag 13, the nervousness in the air was tangible. Thomas spent most of the time waiting with Baker by the radio, his hands folded and lips moving in silent prayer as Baker joined him intermittently. Wilson went over his medical equipment several times to make sure that everything was in place, and Garlotti paced the tunnel so much that he was starting to wear out a depression in the dirt.

At last, they all looked up as they heard running footsteps from down the tunnel, surprised to see the sergeant heading towards them—and all alone, to boot.

"Kinch!" Thomas exclaimed. "My word! What happened?"

Kinch paused for a moment to catch his breath, handing the message Hogan had written to Baker.

"Emergency code and wavelength…" he gasped. "Colonel's orders."

"So he's okay, then?" Garlotti asked. "What happened to him and the others?"

"Give him a moment!" Wilson chided the private.

Baker blinked as he read the message Hogan had wanted him to send; he decided to wait for Kinch to be ready to speak before asking him his questions.

Eventually, Kinch caught his breath and explained the whole story.

"…So I've got to call in to Gruber as Klink and then head back there myself," he said.

"If it'll help, there's an extra motorcycle we commandeered when we apprehended that messenger a few days ago and sent him to England," Garlotti said. "It's hidden in the woods just outside the wire, under a bunch of shrubbery."

"Yes," Thomas said. "I believe it was a unanimous decision to keep the motorcycle hidden there until the metaphorical rainy day."

"Good," Kinch said. "Because it's metaphorically pouring out there. Now I've got to call up Gruber; Baker, you get ready with that message."

"About that message," Baker said. "Do you know why the colonel wants to ask London about Jack Williams?"

"Williams?" Wilson asked. "That traitor? Why does the colonel want to know about him for?"

"I didn't actually read the message; I had to get over here as quickly as I could," Kinch said, as he sat down at the switchboard. "But before I left, the colonel seemed to finally be getting an idea of what was going on. Now that I think about it, those cards that Newkirk found did seem to point to Williams."

"Then he must have escaped from England!" Thomas exclaimed.

"Either that, or he was set loose," Garlotti said, frowning. "Someone helped him set this up. Even if he had escaped, he would've had to have help to get here!"

"And the colonel wants some names," Kinch finished. He now held up a hand for silence as he got through to Klink's office. With relative ease, he morphed his voice to a flawless copy of Klink's. " _Hallo_ , Gruber? _Ja_. Gruber, I want you to send a squad of men to the wax museum at once! There is a riot going on here, and I will not let Major Hochstetter sneer upon the brand of discipline we have here at Stalag 13!"

This conversation continued for a few more minutes, and once it was through, Kinch knew he had only a few minutes to get back out through the tunnels before the guards assembled and moved out.

"Thanks for the heads-up about that motorcycle, but I still don't have any time to lose. I'll hopefully see you all later."

"Is there anything else we can do?" Garlotti asked, as Baker now got on the radio and started transmitting.

"Just go through the preliminaries for an evacuation," Kinch said. "As far as everything else, the colonel's original order still stands—if we're not back by morning, have everyone clear out of here."

Even as he spoke, Kinch was getting out of his chair and heading back the way he had come.

"Godspeed, Kinch," Thomas called after him.

The sergeant acknowledged him with a wave as he dashed out of sight.

* * *

Meanwhile, the wheels in Colonel Hogan's head were turning now. His touch was back, and he knew it. With relative ease, he slipped past Hochstetter's men. Soon, he was back outside the window that Newkirk had locked him out of.

Hogan certainly didn't blame the Englishman; his selflessness was one of the key factors in selecting him for the team—he had been very impressed upon seeing how Newkirk had fiercely defended against anyone who had crossed LeBeau. The Englishman's adept lock-picking and pickpocketing skills were just a very useful bonus.

The colonel pushed the thought out of his mind; there would be time for nostalgia after they got out of this. Quickly realizing that there was no other alternative, Hogan removed his hat and used it to offer as much shielding as he could for his hand as he smashed his fist through the window and unlocked the catch. It would fit in with the story they had concocted about the riot at the museum, he rationalized.

This task completed, Hogan now opened the window and quickly slipped inside, ducking to the floor in order to stay out of view in case the shattering glass had attracted the attention of any of Hochstetter's men. This wouldn't help so much with hiding from the mastermind, inside, however, so Hogan kept his eyes peeled. The minutes ticked by, and he heard nothing from either of them; he had been lucky and had gone unheard by both threats.

 _Lady Luck is starting to smile on me again. That's a good sign_.

But what _wasn't_ a good sign was the fact that the rest of his men were nowhere in sight. There was no way of telling where they had gone, or whether or not they had gone of their own volition. And, of course, calling out for them was definitely out of the question; he had to find them without any clues.

…Or _were_ there clues?

As Hogan pushed himself up to a kneeling position, he saw the curtains that Carter had left on the floor after taking the curtain rod. It didn't take long for the colonel to put two and two together and realize that someone had used it to look for trapdoors—and that someone had to be one of his men.

It was then that Hogan noticed something else—the dog tag that was the sister to the one that Carter had found. As the colonel picked it up, he exhaled as he read Williams' name on it, confirming his suspicions.

One question was answered, but so many more were taking its place. For a lot of those questions, Williams would be one of the few who could answer them—and Hogan would get answers.

But before that, he had to find out where his men had gone. Deciding to take their lead and using a curtain rod for himself to help navigate around the trapdoors in the floor, Hogan headed back along the route where the exhibits were—first the room with the composers, and then the room with the dead officers.

It was here that he saw the plaque with his name that LeBeau had ripped off of the empty tableau and had thrown to the ground. The colonel recognized the telltale signs of the Frenchman's fury immediately. LeBeau was not one to hold back when someone or something annoyed him; usually his diatribes were hurled against their enemies, but LeBeau had been known to direct his fury at his comrades when provoked. But when push came to shove, LeBeau's inner volcano would erupt when it came to protecting his comrades; just as Newkirk would do anything to help his friends, LeBeau would unleash all vicious fury to protect them, as well.

Hogan pushed the thoughts aside again and continued on to the next room, with the Chamber of Horrors. His own anger increased now that he saw Olsen's wax figure standing with Klink's, along with the rest of Janos Skorzeny's victims.

As he walked towards the display, he paused; for a moment, it seemed as though he could hear his men's voices.

Hogan now turned to face the wall, frowning. No, he was not imagining things; there were the trio's voices, coming from behind the wall!

"There's got to be a switch to get us out of here!" Carter was saying, trying to feel for one.

"Forget it," Newkirk hissed back. "We need to keep going."

"Then we are in the exact same problem as though we had gotten in through the trapdoor!" LeBeau countered.

Hogan couldn't see him, but he could easily imagine the angry look on the Frenchman's face.

"Well, there's one thing different in this case," Newkirk responded, dryly. "At least we can break the ruddy wall down if we need to make a quick exit; that ain't something you can do with a trapdoor."

As he listened to them, Hogan found himself in another dilemma. Should he announce his presence to his men? They might be relieved knowing that he would be there to back them up if need be, but, on the other hand, they could just as easily be concerned now that they had to worry about him again.

Hogan sighed again; for their sake, he would have to continue to let them think that he was still en route to camp. If anything, it might mean that he could be able to back them up more effectively.

"Look," Newkirk now said. "We're not accomplishing anything by standing 'ere discussing this; we need to find out where Williams is keeping Olsen and the others, and we've got to find 'im before 'e finds us!"

"We are in agreement on that," LeBeau said. "But we need to determine where we need to go; I can imagine that if Williams based these passageways on our tunnels, he will have them branching in several directions."

"Easy," Carter said. "We want to get to the lower level, right? We go in the direction that slopes downward."

"I just 'ope it's that easy," Newkirk said, his voice growing fainter, as though he was heading town the passageway.

Hogan mulled over this for a moment, trying to determine his next move. He could very well figure out how to open the wall switch here and follow some distance behind them. However, there was a chance that Williams might be coming back the same way and encounter them—a possibility that his men didn't seem to have considered. And Hogan was in no position to warn them about it.

Recalling how he had seen Williams for a split-second in the lobby without ever hearing the door, Hogan knew that there had to be another panel from there. Hoping that the three would be able to hold their own for a little while, Hogan headed back into the lobby, striking the walls like LeBeau had done earlier until he found the hollow portion of the wall.

Instead of a rope triggering the wall panel, this one was opened by a small lever sticking out of the wall, hovering just slightly above the floor. He kicked this with the toe of his boot, and the wall panel opened to admit him into the network of passageways.

Realizing that he had to find a way to let Kinch know about the passageway, as well, Hogan took out his handkerchief and held it out as the panel closed again; part of the handkerchief would now be visible outside. The colonel had no doubt that Kinch would be able to see it and realize what to do.

As Hogan headed down the passage from his direction, the trio continued up ahead from their direction. They had found the passageway that sloped downward, as Carter had predicted. But the further they progressed, the more uncomfortably warm it felt. The Englishman was soon wiping the sweat off of his brow, frowning as Carter brought to words what he and LeBeau were clearly feeling.

"Boy, it's really getting hot in here, isn't it?" the sergeant asked. "Hot and stuffy…"

LeBeau silently agreed by removing his scarf and pocketing it, beads of perspiration working their way onto his face.

"Considering who we're up against," Newkirk threw in. "It wouldn't surprise me if we're 'eaded right into the depths of—"

The Englishman was cut off as the curtain rod tapped against a solid, wooden surface.

He felt it, his fingers finding a groove that allowed him to slide the panel aside with the help of greased wheels.

"Cor blimey…" he murmured.

Cautiously, he led the way forward into a room that served both as a boiler room and the waxworks. But the most shocking sight of all was the sight of five wax figures standing near the boiling vat of wax.

For the trio, it was like looking into an eerie mirror; their wax likenesses stared back at them with haunting looks. Beside them were figures of Hogan and Kinch; all five figures glistened from the heat, including Carter's figure, which was still dressed in the von Siedelberg outfit.

"Well, that accounts for the warm wax on the other figures," Newkirk said, once the shock had begun to fade somewhat.

"Williams was just waiting to get us into his trapdoors so that he could display these figures," LeBeau spat.

"But this confirms that the others have to be okay—all of the figures of the missing people on display up there were just replicas, like these ones!" Carter said.

"You're right about that," Newkirk agreed, still unable to take his eyes off of his statue. "The real prisoners can't be too far from 'ere; all we have to do is find them."

"Correction," a familiar voice responded, coldly. "All you have to do is join them."

LeBeau was about to turn to face the voice, as it seemed to come from behind him, but the feeling of cold metal against the back of his neck made him freeze, in spite of how warm the room was.

Williams had been waiting for them to make their move after all. And now they were in yet another trap.


	11. Genius and Madness

Newkirk's eyes blazed at the sound of Williams' voice. He turned, cursing the traitor the best he could, but did not move a muscle once he realized that Williams had a gun planted on the back of LeBeau's neck.

Carter stood stunned as he saw the sight, horrified that things had come to this just as when they had thought that things were finally going their way.

LeBeau did try to mask the fear in his eyes as he looked to his comrades, sending a voiceless plea for help; Newkirk responded with a silent vow that he would not let LeBeau die at Williams' hands. He then cast quick glances to the Frenchman and to Carter with a clear message: _The Guv'nor is coming back with reinforcements; we just have to keep stalling Williams until the colonel gets here_.

Carter and LeBeau responded with quick looks that acknowledged that they clearly understood.

"You look well, Newkirk," Williams taunted, unaware of the silent communications around him. "Life in the Stalag has been treating you well. Not that I'm surprised; LeBeau here always managed to keep you fed. Isn't that right, LeBeau? It's too bad that more people don't know about your achievements—then again, what sort of award do they give glorified nursemaids?"

LeBeau responded with a few words that were definitely not a reply to Williams' query, sounding a lot braver than he felt with the gun to his neck.

Newkirk cursed again.

"Let 'im go, Williams!" he ordered. "You 'ave all three of us right where you want us; we can't get away."

"Oh, no. I know how crafty you can be, Newkirk. While I was in London, I heard tell of the time you were caught in that brawl in the Red Lion, just before you were shipped out; you versus fifteen men, wasn't it? And you got out of it without a scratch; me standing here with a gun isn't going to slow you down…" He smirked as Newkirk's eyes widened. "Ooh, looks like I struck a nerve."

"…'ow did you find out?"

"It was in the records," Williams said, calmly. "Along with a few other things I found out about you and your craftiness. In fact, I don't think I trust you with that curtain rod in your hands. Drop it."

He pressed the gun harder against LeBeau's neck. Newkirk dropped the curtain rod in an instant, angrier than a venom-spitting cobra.

"That's better," Williams said. "I'm sure you figured out by now that I didn't get here on my own. I had help—a network that not only got me out, but also destroyed all traces of my being there. It wasn't too hard; you guys went through a lot of trouble to make it look as though I was dead; the few who knew I was alive were easily fooled. In a way, it was your cover-up that allowed me to escape."

"Charming," Newkirk spat. "I'll bet Williams ain't even your real name now, is it?"

"Not anymore," the man agreed. "With my new loyalty came a new identity to help me get out of England and make my way through here."

"Let me guess…" the Englishman said. "Wolfhelm?"

"The team that helped me escape went to great lengths to teach me how to put on that act before I could be as convincing as you saw me," Williams said, nodding. "But they spared no detail. And their efforts did not disappoint—it fooled you, the colonel, the Germans, and even the great Nimrod."

Newkirk responded with a scowl; he didn't want to admit it, but he never would've considered that the seemingly-timid proprietor of the museum they had been working for had, in fact, been one of their enemies.

LeBeau, thankfully, changed the subject.

"Then why did you leave those cards and wear your old dog tags?" the Frenchman hissed. "That defeated the whole purpose."

"It didn't defeat _my_ purpose. The cards and the dog tags were just my way of dropping hints."

"You _wanted_ us to figure out it was you!" Carter said, his eyes going wide. "You knew we'd be furious enough to try to track you down after everything you tried to do to us, and so you waited here for us to show up!"

"You're here, aren't you?" Williams pointed out. "I'd say that's another one of my plans that worked to perfection. …Well, near-perfection; you did ruin my chances of grabbing the top prize."

Newkirk now finally smirked. Colonel Hogan was safe, as far as he knew. Even if they didn't make it out of this, he would.

"Nice maneuver, eh?" he said. "Just like in a game of chess when you move the king out of the way and swap 'im with the rook."

"For the record, it's called castling, and it doesn't matter if Hogan's not here now; he'll be back with reinforcements," Williams said. "But I know Hogan's weaknesses; he'll surrender once he realizes I've got you with Nimrod and the others."

"What makes you so sure you have Nimrod?" LeBeau asked.

"Yes, I told you, I was able to find out a lot of things while I was being held in London," he replied. "Among the things I found out was Nimrod's true identity. I also found out that you guys don't know who Nimrod is."

"Your contacts know who Nimrod is, too?" Carter asked, his heart sinking. How much did they know? Would everyone associated with helping their operation suffer along with them?

"No, they don't," Williams said. "But, believe me, they wanted to know. It was decided that it would be more prudent if this information stayed with me. I promised to not only tell them Nimrod's identity, but hand Nimrod over personally, providing that they help me pull off this… project of mine."

"Your revenge, you mean," LeBeau spat.

"You had it coming to you," the traitor sneered. "After everything you put me through, I intend to enjoy this."

"We could 'ave avoided all this if you 'adn't started stabbing us in the back!" Newkirk accused. "We would've left you well enough alone, but no, you 'ad to make a menace of yourself by stealing our Red Cross packages and cheating at poker games! And then you were ready to give away the secrets of our organization—after we'd let you in, even letting you coming along on missions!"

"Yeah, that's one thing I don't get," Carter said. "Why'd you snitch on us when you were supposed to be on our side? You went along with us when we were fighting the Germans; Heck, you were in our Air Corps! You didn't believe in anything the Germans stood for—I'll bet you still don't! Why did you ever betray us when you were a soldier, just like every other one of us?"

"Not by choice. Not all of us enlisted voluntarily like you did, Carter."

"That's _Sergeant_."

All three heads turned to stare at Carter. He very rarely pulled rank, and when he did, it meant that he had tossed the kid gloves as far as he could throw them. Even Williams, who only knew Carter casually, knew him enough to be concerned.

"So you were drafted," Carter went on. "Big deal. Newkirk was drafted, and he'd rather be at home in London than stay here! You don't see him going around stabbing people in the back because he's sore about staying in Germany, do you?"

"I see him, _Sergeant_ , doing the same things I was doing in Stalag 13—stealing and cheating at cards!" Williams retorted. "And I didn't see you or anyone else giving him a hard time over it! Compare his record to mine! I didn't spend my life living off the streets, picking pockets! I didn't snatch diamonds from a jewelry store and impersonate a Duke to try to romance a Duchess! And I certainly didn't rob a man's life savings and drive him over the edge!"

Newkirk paled, gritting his teeth. That heist was one he had not been proud of, nor had he divulged the story to anyone; had he known that he had been taking the unfortunate man's life savings and not one of many stashes of a Scrooge-like miser, as he had been led to believe, he wouldn't have gone through with it at all. He expected that, one day, he would have told LeBeau and Carter about what had happened, but he hated that they had to find out by Williams' word, instead of his own.

"Yeah, I know," Williams went on, addressing the Englishman now. "You were thinking it the moment I found out about that brawl you were in—what _else_ did I find about you when I was in London? Well, I found out everything—more than what you've told LeBeau and the _Sergeant_ here, I'll bet!"

"Shut up."

It wasn't Newkirk who had spoken; Carter's blue eyes were piercing right into Williams, and it was his turn to be unnerved.

"What?" he asked, flatly.

"You don't have the right to judge Newkirk or anyone else. Newkirk has saved our lives more times than I can count, and he even saved _your_ life once, when you got stuck in a minefield on one of the missions we let you come along on. He was the one who ended up helping you out of there, at great risk to his own life! Of course, I'm willing to bet you conveniently forgot about that, didn't you?"

"…Okay, seriously, Carter, what gives?

"I said it's ' _Sergeant_!'"

LeBeau and Newkirk exchanged glances. This had gone beyond the stalling tactic they had been hoping for; Williams really did seem to be getting unnerved by Carter's fury—not that they could blame him. An angry Carter was something rarely seen—and was something you did not want to see.

"Look, I meant what I said that time; you're all right," Williams said, seeing if he could charm Carter as he had done the day he had convinced him to lend him his flashlight for an unauthorized escape attempt that everyone—even Carter—had been dead-set against. "I was planning to let you come back to England with me, once I dealt with everyone else. Seriously, there's a reason why I had you as von Siedelberg and not as yourself, like all the other figures I made."

It was only now they noticed that the four figures of LeBeau, Newkirk, Hogan, and Kinch were, indeed, in uniform.

"My contacts would pay you good money if you could pull off those impersonations of yours for them," Williams continued. "They've already paid me enough money to ensure that I'll never have to work a day in my life; imagine what they'd do for you."

"You think you can buy me off?" Carter quipped back, a touch of venom now rising in his voice—a touch of venom that the others in the room, even Newkirk and LeBeau, never knew existed. "After what I just told you? You know, at first I thought you were a little off your rocker, but you're full-blown insane!"

"Fine, _Sergeant_ ," Williams said, coolly. "It's clear which side of the bread your butter is on. You'd rather align yourself with a thief, a nursemaid, and a coward of a CO who doesn't even fight his own battles."

"You take that back!" Carter ordered.

"Too right you'd better take it back; the Guv'nor ain't a coward!" Newkirk said.

"He is braver than most commanders!" LeBeau agreed, so upset that he had to mentally remind himself repeatedly to speak in English. "Most officers sit at a desk and order their men from there, but le _Colonel_ joins us on our missions! He would do anything to help us!"

"Yeah, he really proved that when he ran away from here not too long ago," the traitor sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, we 'ad to get 'im out of 'ere; we thought there was a madman running amok, trying to get at the Guv'nor! And we were right!"

"I told you; he's crazy!" Carter said, still glaring at the traitor.

"The fact remains that the colonel isn't here," Williams said, unfazed by Newkirk's temper, at least, and deciding to ignore Carter until he could figure out what the sergeant's angle was. "So now we're doing things my way."

"Just what do you have in mind?" LeBeau asked. "I am not enjoying standing here with your gun against my neck."

"Well, I'm interested in what Colonel Hogan will say once he sees you three as my prisoners. So we have a little while to kill."

"Emphasis on the final word in that sentence, I'll wager," Newkirk said, being as wry as he possibly could under the circumstances. "Dare I ask what you 'ad in mind, or is this yet another guessing game?"

"A game is actually what I had in mind," Williams said. "You have my cards. Why not a game of poker—just like the old days?"

Newkirk stared at Williams, befuddled. It was then he saw the mad gleam in the traitor's eyes; Carter had been right—and he had obviously seen the look first. Williams was indeed deranged; whether or not it had been latent since the beginning or as a result of his imprisonment was unknown. But the fact remained that their captor was not all there. How much of his story had been the truth? How much had all been delusions? What had he done to the others who had vanished?

"Andrew's right about you; you _are_ crackers," Newkirk said.

Williams suddenly shoved LeBeau to the ground, planting his foot on the smaller corporal's back to pin him down as he aimed the weapon at Newkirk now.

"I will not be insulted by a common thief!" he bellowed. Muscles in his left eye twitched as he attempted to stare the Englishman down.

Newkirk didn't dare to move, fearing that the slightest movement could make him snap fully. The impossible had happened; things had gotten worse, for their diabolical chessmaster was as much a madman as he was a genius.


	12. Checkmate

It was during this standoff that Hogan arrived at the end of the passageway, the door still opened when he arrived. Williams had his back to him, completely unaware of his presence as he continued to hold the gun aimed at Newkirk. LeBeau was smack against the floor, but the Frenchman's eyes widened as he saw Hogan there. Carter did not move a muscle; he would not reveal the Colonel's presence by revealing his surprise. And Newkirk was too busy staring down the barrel of Williams' gun to notice.

The colonel placed a finger to his lips and looked in Carter's direction, indicating the curtain rod on his hand. The sergeant's gaze flickered to the curtain rod that Newkirk had dropped earlier; it was lying not too far from his feet.

" _Wait for LeBeau to throw him off-balance_ ," Hogan mouthed. He then looked to the Frenchman, raising his arm. Suddenly, he lowered it, and LeBeau knew it was his signal.

The Frenchman suddenly flipped over, throwing Williams off balance; the gun discharged into the wall as Newkirk threw himself to the ground. Carter grabbed the curtain rod from the ground and used it to send the gun flying from Williams' hand as Hogan tossed his curtain rod to LeBeau so that he could defend himself, as well. LeBeau immediately used it to clout the traitor over the head.

The blow left Williams momentarily stunned, but it was enough for Hogan to slip inside the room unnoticed, hiding behind machinery as he worked his way to a door at the other side of the room. Newkirk got to his feet now, having seen the colonel for a split second, utterly baffled by his appearance, while also realizing that Williams hadn't seen him. And they couldn't let him; there was no telling what seeing Hogan would make the madman do.

Newkirk now launched himself into a flying tackle as Williams got to his feet, sending them crashing to the ground again.

"Find me a rope!" he yelled to the others, as he tried to pull one of the traitor's arms behind his back. "Find me _something_ to tie this barmy twister up with!"

"Not a chance," Williams hissed, using his free arm to deck the Englishman in the jaw. "You know, Newkirk, I realized something. I don't need all three of you to bargain with Hogan. Two of you will be enough—"

LeBeau, seething with rage, now used the curtain rod to press against Williams' neck and pull him back from Newkirk, allowing the Englishman to shake off the blow.

"See how _you_ like it," LeBeau hissed.

Williams didn't like it, of course. He tried a backwards tackle, causing him and LeBeau to fall over that way, after which Newkirk immediately punched the traitor in the stomach. As Williams cringed, LeBeau managed to pull away, but Williams grabbed at the curtain rod in the Frenchman's hands.

"Andrew, where's that bloomin' rope?" Newkirk yelled, helping LeBeau in this tug-of-war match.

"I'm looking! I'm looking!"

Williams suddenly let go of the curtain rod, sending both corporals backwards, and the reason quickly became clear—he had found where his gun had landed from earlier.

"Go. _Go_!" Newkirk hissed to LeBeau, pushing him so that he was hidden behind a piece of machinery. "Andrew, watch out; 'e's got 'is gun back!"

The Englishman dove in the opposite direction, finding another piece of machinery to hide behind. Williams held his gun as he scanned the room, his eyes narrowing.

"You can hide, but you won't get far!" he snarled. "I'll find you, Newkirk—you and your French nursemaid! The _sergeant_ will be more than enough to bargain with Hogan!"

No one dared to reply him and betray his presence—not as long as that madman was armed.

* * *

Once again, Hogan found himself conflicted, having left his men to deal with Williams without him. He did take comfort in the thought that he had helped them disarm that traitor (unaware, of course, that he was armed again). And as soon as he found where the others were being held, he would see to helping the trio again.

As he headed down this corridor, he soon became aware of voices arguing—some were angry, some were neutral, and some were genuinely frightened. And one was distinctly a woman's voice.

The corridor stopped at another door, and Hogan opened it, seeing Williams' prisoners, all tied to chairs. It was Hochstetter and Burkhalter who had been arguing, with Klink desperately trying to keep the peace between them again. Schultz was trembling in his chair, going on about his wife and children and how he was their sole provider and could not afford to be killed by a man whom he thought was dead; Olsen and Hilda did their best to console him as Langenscheidt just shut his eyes, praying.

It was Hilda who noticed the colonel first.

"Colonel Hogan!" she exclaimed, relief evident in her voice.

The conversations stopped immediately, and Hogan found himself being exclaimed at (or, in Hochstetter's case, screamed at) by Williams' captives.

"Colonel Hogan!" Schultz cried. "Ohhh, Colonel Hogan! Please, please save us! That madman means to kill us!"

"Hogan, I will have your head for this!" the major roared. "You are obviously behind this!"

"Yeah, I would really try to have my own man killed," Hogan retorted, sarcastically, trying to untie the knots on Hilda's ropes. Williams had tied them tightly, though. "Anyone have a knife on them?"

"I have one, Colonel," Langenscheidt said. "It is in my pocket."

"You would give a weapon to a prisoner of war?" Hochstetter bellowed.

"Hochstetter, will you be quiet long enough for him to set us free?" Burkhalter shot back, his face flushed.

Klink winced, shaking his head, clearly wanting to be away from it all. Hogan, in the meantime, ignored them and retrieved the knife from Langenscheidt.

"Thanks, Corporal; you just hang in there," he said, as he moved to cut Hilda free. With a sigh, she hugged him, briefly, as soon as she had been cut loose.

"Hogan!" Klink chided.

"Will you all sit tight for a few more minutes?" Hogan shot back, now freeing Olsen. "Look, I have to go back and help the others before they get hurt—or worse—by this nut! Olsen, you free the others."

"Hogaaaaaaan!" Klink yelled, as the American colonel handed the knife to the sergeant and headed back the way he had come. "Come back!"

The others yelled after him, as well, but Hogan forced himself to ignore them and move on.

* * *

As the trio continued to hide from Williams, nothing could be heard except the bubbling of the hot vat of wax and the hum of the machinery in the room. The noise was enough for LeBeau to creep about unheard; unfortunately, he realized that Williams' movements would be just as inaudible.

The Frenchman slipped behind a second boiler and took a peek out from behind it, freezing as he saw Williams in front of him, creeping up behind Newkirk, who was looking out from behind another boiler father up ahead, completely unaware of Williams behind him, aiming his gun at him yet again.

"Pierre!" LeBeau screamed as Williams opened fire, emptying the remaining five bullets into the man in blue; the Frenchman's warning had been too late. "PIERRE!"

"Louis!" the Englishman called back, from another area of the room, thinking that _he_ had been shot. "LOUIS?"

LeBeau and Williams both stared at the blue-clad figure, now fallen to the ground. Newkirk emerged from behind another boiler, his eyes widening as he apparently saw himself lying on the ground.

"Cor blimey…"

"Pierre!" LeBeau exclaimed.

"Surprised, Williams?" Carter asked, stepping out from behind yet another piece of machinery. "I knew you'd be the type to shoot a guy in the back. So I grabbed that wax dummy you had made of Newkirk and placed it there. And now you're out of bullets."

Williams stared at Carter with a dumbfounded expression before turning back to Newkirk.

"I don't need bullets to take care of him!" he hissed, hurling the empty gun at the Englishman. Newkirk raised his arm to block it, cursing.

"I shall kiss you on the cheeks later, Andre, when this is over," LeBeau promised, as he launched into a savate kick that sent the traitor flying backwards, flipping over a horizontal piece of pipe.

"Genius, Chum," Newkirk agreed, vaulting over the pipe to try to apprehend him again. But Williams expected it, kicking out at Newkirk's stomach as he jumped over, sending him flipping over, falling smack on his back beside the large vat of wax.

Williams now got up, pulling Newkirk up by his sweater collar and now tried to press his face against the hot metal of the vat. At this point, Carter had decided to abandon his search for a rope as he and LeBeau charged towards Williams, but someone else had gotten there before either of them.

Kinch, having found the handkerchief that Hogan had left behind, quickly realized what he was supposed to do, and had followed the passageway down to the boiler room. He now gifted Williams a punch in the jaw that sent him reeling, letting go of Newkirk with a scream as his arm came into contact with the hot metal. The scream of pain turned into an angered yell as he charged at both of them; Kinch pulled the still-dazed Newkirk out of the way as Carter and LeBeau now stepped in to try to subdue Williams.

But Williams was now descending further into his madness, swinging his fists at anyone who even tried to get close. A flying tackle was out of the question, being too close to the vat.

"Come a bit closer…" he taunted. "Come on. Try it. I'll flip you over and into the hot wax. Wanna try it, Newkirk? Or you want to watch me try it to Shorty the Nursemaid here?"

Kinch just stared as he realized how insane Williams had become. And as Hogan now entered the room through the corridor, arriving in time to hear him say that, he quickly realized it, too.

"It doesn't matter that you tried castling," Williams went on. "When your 'king' gets here, he'll see all but one of you dead and will surrender to save the last one!"

"Actually," Hogan said, deciding that this was the opportunity to make his presence known. "I believe this is checkmate."

Williams' eyes widened as he heard the voice of the man he hated even more than Newkirk, but his turning around was his undoing—as Hogan had hoped. The other four seized each of his limbs, and though the traitor fought against their hold, struggling, he could not pull free.

Slowly, he stopped struggling as despair filled him, mixing with his existing anger and bitterness.

"You ruined it…" he said, looking to Hogan with the mad look in his eyes. "YOU RUINED IT!"

"Ruined what?" Hogan yelled back. "Ruined your sick plan for revenge? Ruined your trying to make us all as insane as you are with these mind tricks? Let me tell you something, Williams—we were doing fine until you started stabbing us in the back. We were even willing to put up with your thieving ways—"

"Don't talk to me about thieving ways!" Williams screamed, his eyes almost bugging out in his mad rage. "You show all of your favoritism to _that_ thief!"

He glared daggers at Newkirk, who was holding onto his arm, despite being noticeably weakened and weary from the fight.

"It's like I told you!" Carter snapped back. "Newkirk may be a thief, but you saw how willing he was to save us just now!"

"Look, Williams, forget about my decisions for who I picked for my team," Hogan ordered. "I never regretted picking Newkirk in my core team, but you have no idea how much I regret allowing you to get involved—however slightly!"

"The feeling is mutual, _Sir_!" Williams spat.

Hogan scowled in reply.

"We don't have time for this; Williams, you'd better start talking. How did you get here? Who helped you?"

"He talked about some sort of network helping him, Colonel," LeBeau said.

"Yeah, and that's all I'm telling you," Williams said.

"Oh, no, you're not!" Carter said, before Hogan could speak. "I've had it with you, Williams! I had to stand by and watch as you tried to make us think that people were encased in wax and turned into statues! I had to stand by and watch you insulted and threatened my best friends over and over! Well, I have had _enough_! You are going to talk, or I'll know the reason why!"

He pulled on Williams' shirt collar so that his face was an inch from his.

"Who helped you get here and arrange this?"

"I… I don't know their names… We never brought up names…" Williams said. "All I told them is that I would deliver Papa Bear and Nimrod to them, and they trained me in the Wolfhelm disguise. I used my own wax sculpting skills to come up with this; I keep in touch with them by a radio, but we don't use names. I was Vulture to them."

"And what were they to you?" Hogan asked.

Williams hesitated.

"Tell him," Carter said.

"..Sp…Spider Web."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Hogan asked.

"That's what they're called—their web is what lets traitors in England make their way to here. The Spiders got me out and trained me. They trained me to look into files—that's how I found out the information on Newkirk and Nimrod; I tried it before I left, and it worked. That was how I knew that this was going to work… I thought it would work… It should have worked!"

If they hadn't been holding onto him, he would've crashed to his knees, but he still let out a yell of frustration and defeat.

"Who is Nimrod?" Carter asked.

Williams responded with another defeated howl, and Carter let him go.

"What do we do with him, Sir?" he asked.

"I don't think there's anything more he can tell us," Hogan said. "But just in case, we need to somehow get him out of here alive."

LeBeau and Newkirk immediately protested this.

"Guv, you know 'ow I 'ate to go against you, but I've come close to death more times today than in all me life!"

" _Oui_ ; he would kill us now without a second thought if he had the chance; I saw we throw him into his own vat of wax, like he had intended for us!"

"Tempting though it is, that isn't how we work," Hogan said, firmly but understandingly. "We're getting him out of here alive."

"There are two questions that come to mind, Colonel," Kinch said. "The first is how do we get him out of here, and the second is what do we do with him if we somehow can? Sending him back to England isn't going to work if that Spider Web will just get him out again. And even before that, how do we get him past Hochstetter and the guards from Stalag 13? I didn't have that much of a headstart on them; I'll bet they're here already, and they'll probably find the passageways soon enough."

Olsen's voice could be heard coming from the corridor; he was speaking loudly to alert Hogan and the others that the Germans were coming.

"Carter, do you still have that smokescreen charge?"

"Yeah…"

"Set it off right away and bring me one of those wax figures. Kinch, take Williams into one of the side passageways—as far as you can go—and then knock him out. Tie him up with this…" He handed over the ropes he had taken from when he had cut Hilda loose. "And see if you can block off the passageway somehow. We'll have someone from the Underground pick him up as soon as possible."

Kinch nodded, dragging Williams away as smoke began to fill the boiler room.

"I want the rest of you to sound like you're fighting—and make it believable," Hogan ordered.

The corporals the men immediately launched into yells, pretending to grapple with an unseen foe as Carter returned with the figure of himself. As the voices of the Germans could be heard approaching closer, Hogan threw the figure into the vat of wax, backing everyone away as the hot wax splashed out.

"What was that?" Klink exclaimed.

"That _was_ Jack Williams," Hogan lied. "He completely snapped and when he realized he had lost, and he jumped in there to avoid getting tortured by Hochstetter after what he had put him through.

"Hogan…" Burkhalter said, coughing from all of the smoke. "Hogan, as much as I hate to admit it, it seems as though you and your men have saved us from this madman."

"Bah!" Hochstetter snarled. "He orchestrated it! And then he had Williams killed to cover it up!"

"But I thought Williams was already dead!" Schultz exclaimed. "How was a dead man able to do all of this?"

"…That is true," Burkhalter realized. He looked to Klink. "Klink, didn't you tell me that Williams had died sabotaging one of our weapons?"

Klink blinked, shaking his head.

"He was diabolical!" he exclaimed. "He faked his own death so that we would not look for him—and then he planned all of this!"

Burkhalter considered this and turned to Hogan.

"You are certain he is dead now?"

Hogan gestured to the vat of wax.

"If you can possibly find a way to search in there, we could confirm it."

"That does it!" Hochstetter bellowed. "Hogan, you and every single one of your men are under arrest!"

"Major!" Klink protested. "You saw that they were singled out as much as we were! Williams is obviously mad and orchestrated this himself!"

"And may I remind you, Hochstetter, that Hogan was the one who saved all of us?" Burkhalter said, as Kinch slipped back into the room unobserved.

"An act!" Hochstetter insisted. "It is all an elaborate act to try to convince us of their innocence! And why are you so sure about this Williams acting alone, Klink?"

"This is how I am sure, Major," Klink said, handing him some papers he had found. "This was in the room we were being held in; they are papers in Williams' hand—details on how he planned to kill us as well as Colonel Hogan and his men. And I have seen the man's handwriting before."

"Bah! More evidence planted by Hogan to divert suspicions from himself!"

"Hochstetter, this has gone far enough!" Burkhalter bellowed. "The evidence points to this madman working alone, and I hereby _order_ you to drop this case, unless you find substantial evidence that would suggest that Hogan was involved!"

Hochstetter was ready to fight, but the direct order forced him to withdraw, seething; he headed towards the door that led to the passageway, but stopped and stepped aside as the Stalag 13 guards entered the room.

"Herr Kommandant, we are here as you ordered," one of them said.

Klink blinked in surprise again, but then seemingly decided that Langenscheidt must have found a phone after all before disappearing.

"Yes," he said. "I want you to scour these passageways for any evidence you can find as to who was behind this museum. Bring everything to me. Herr General, I will alert you if anything turns up."

"And you will alert me, as well!" Hochstetter ordered.

"May I remind you, Major, that the General gave you a direct order to stay out of this affair?" Klink asked, smugly.

"Klink…" Burkhalter said. "I can enforce my own orders without your help."

"…Yes, of course," the German colonel said, his smug look fading.

"And an investigation is still required from my angle; I am not leaving just yet," Burkhalter continued. "You can be sure that some of my own investigators will be searching this place immediately."

"I understand, Herr General," Klink said. He looked to Schultz. "Schultz, I want you to take Hogan and his men back to the Stalag at once. I will return after General Burkhalter and I finish with our investigation."

"At once, Herr Kommandant!"

The look on Hochstetter's face as Schultz ushered them out said that he was certainly going to try to get his men inside when he got the chance. And he wasn't going to leave until Burkhalter threw him out.

Deciding to ignore Klink telling Langenscheidt to take Hilda to her home, Kinch now turned to Hogan.

"Interesting that Klink, Burkhalter, and Hochstetter aren't leaving just yet…" he said, in an undertone.

"What do you mean?"

"I managed to get one more thing out of Williams before I knocked him out," Kinch said. "He said that Nimrod was an officer."

Olsen and the trio now looked back as Schultz continued to lead them, eager to get out and not paying attention to what they were saying.

"An officer?" Newkirk whispered. "One of those three?"

"Seems like it."

"Can you trust him?" Hogan asked.

"I believe so; he's admitted defeat this time, so he has nothing to gain from lying."

Hogan considered this for a moment.

"Well, considering what we just saw, it makes sense," he said. "Klink was quick to come to our defense, Burkhalter was quick to order Hochstetter to stay out of it, and Hochstetter backed down fairly quickly—even for him."

"So what you're saying is, with all three of them staying here, whoever Nimrod is will cover up our tracks, if there are any?" Carter said.

Hogan gave a nod.

"I think we're in good hands, but I'll alert the Underground just in case the other two watch Nimrod too closely," he finished.

"But what about Nimrod's identity?" LeBeau asked. "We have narrowed it down to three; there must be more clues that will help us figure out who it is!"

"I don't know about you, LeBeau, but I think that's a riddle for another time," the colonel replied. "I've had enough of mysteries to last me for quite a while."

LeBeau had to admit that he had a point, as the others agreed.

"Colonel Hogan!" Schultz called to him as he saw them lagging behind. "Colonel Hogan, please! I have my orders to take you back! And I have had a most horrible day; please do not make this take any longer!"

"We're coming, Schultz," Hogan assured him. "Come on, fellas; the old Stalag 13 Hotel is calling to us."

And never before did the drafty barracks and lumpy mattresses seem as inviting as they did now. It was time for a well-deserved rest and recovery.


	13. Epilogue

It was a mix of emotions that welled up in Barracks Two after Schultz brought the team home—jubilation that everyone had made it out and that Williams had been caught, but nervousness at the mention of the Spider Web network.

Baker hadn't heard back from London yet regarding Hogan's request, and the team—both the core and the reserves, were crowding around the radio, discussing how much damage control they had to do. Mercifully, it didn't seem like there was much to do, though it was still disconcerting.

"Williams had better have been telling the truth that he hadn't given any information to that network," Hogan said. "But I'm willing to believe he did; I think Carter put quite a scare into him."

"I didn't want to be in 'is shoes when Andrew started tearing into 'im," Newkirk agreed. "That was no Little Deer—that was Angry Wolf, that was—Angry Wolf Who Proved 'e Earned 'is Stripes."

Carter just shrugged, back to his old self again.

"Williams was burning me up faster than one of my fuses; I wasn't going to just stand there and listen to him," he said.

"We're all grateful for that, Carter," Hogan said. "You got him to talk when he was clammed up tighter than…"

He trailed off as the telegraph started pulsing again.

"It's London with that reply!" Baker exclaimed. Quickly, he jotted it down as it came in, and handed the coded message to Hogan.

"'Regarding Papa Bear's request for information on Jack Williams: Debriefing attempts after transfer to London declared to be lost cause; Williams eventually declared mentally unfit to stand trial. Traitor had disappeared en route to being committed; cell known as Spider Web suspected.'"

"How do you like that?" Kinch muttered.

"I do not like it at all…" LeBeau said. "But why would this Spider Web organization want someone on his way to an institution?"

"I don't mean to be flippant, but he came pretty close to delivering Nimrod and me to them," the colonel said. He sighed, using a lighter to burn the sensitive message. "Baker, ask them for all of the information they have on the Spider Web; emergency wavelength again, just in case."

"Right," Baker said.

He was about to transmit the reply message, but stopped as another one started coming in. It was coming on the secret wavelength, but it was a distinctly different hand sending the message.

" _Nimrod to Papa Bear. Nimrod to Papa Bear; do you read me?_ "

"I… think you'd better take this one, Sir," Baker said, stepping back to allow Hogan to use the transmitter.

The colonel nodded and sent a confirmation.

" _This is Papa Bear. I read you, Nimrod. The birds are flying low over the seas tonight._ "

" _And the whales are traveling directly beneath them_ ," Nimrod answered.

Hogan was satisfied; the countersign was correct.

" _What news do you have?_ " he asked.

" _Traitor is in the hands of the Seven Dwarves; all evidence leading back to you and your cubs has been taken care of_."

There was a sigh of relief all around; the Hammelburg Underground had custody of Williams, and they were in the clear.

" _We can't thank you enough, Nimrod_ ," Hogan wired back. " _You got us out of a lot of trouble_."

" _No, my dear Colonel; it is I who must thank you for saving my life. When I suggested we meet face to face, it was not what I'd had in mind_."

" _Understood_ ," Hogan answered. " _I hate to ask anything more of you after this harrowing experience, but do you happen to know anything about the Spider Web network_?"

At first, there was a gap of silence, and Hogan had wondered if they had been cut off before Nimrod finally replied.

" _He had mentioned them_?"

" _Affirmative. Claimed not to have given any names. How serious would you gauge situation?_ "

" _The Spider Web network has been trying to undo what you have accomplished here; traitor is just one of our prisoners who the network attempted to snatch from us. It seems that he was the first to actually make it back to Germany, but we must stop them before they go any farther_."

" _What do you suggest_?" Hogan asked. " _We're here, and they're in London. We can't exactly get round-trip tickets_!"

" _Still as sharp-tongued and quick-witted as ever, Papa Bear? Nice to see that you haven't been dulled by this ordeal… But all jokes aside, the Spider Web network is difficult for our men in London to infiltrate; they have been spying on our men for so long, they are aware of the faces of our agents in England_."

Hogan's eyes narrowed.

" _Just what are you getting at_?"

" _I suspect it must be obvious, is it not? We must send in a man they are unfamiliar with, but one we can trust. It must be a man who has had experience with this sort of infiltration work, and can work well with a contact—one who is just as trusted and can keep in contact with our side_."

" _What_?" Hogan shouted, just before sending it.

" _I had just wired General Butler_ ," Nimrod went on. " _And he agrees with me; two of your cubs would go to England for this infiltration mission_."

The men immediately voiced their opinion upon decoding this message.

"Cor, 'e's just as crackers as Williams is! Blimey, Guv' you ought to ask 'im for another password!"

" _Oui_ ; how can we just leave—especially with everyone on edge after this! We have not had a chance to recover!"

"And even then, we can go around breaking up the team, Boy!"

"It's far too risky," Kinch agreed. "How would explain two people escaping without getting Klink sent to the Russian Front?"

Hogan was almost amused; here were two tickets out of this freezing prisoner of war camp, and no one wanted to leave. Then again, it wasn't as though they were going home; they would be embarking on a dangerous mission.

" _Nimrod to Papa Bear… I am assuming you are still there, only distracted by the reaction of your cubs to this announcement_?"

" _Affirmative, Nimrod. This isn't exactly a routine communication_."

" _The decision is ultimately yours to make_ ," Nimrod said. " _Relay your decision to myself or General Butler. Should you agree, we will arrange for the two prisoners to be transferred to the custody of Major Hans Teppel; it is getting to be too dangerous for Morrison to remain in Germany, and this will be a way for your men to escape without upsetting things too much, and allowing him to reach England and safety as well_."

"Well, that answers my question," Kinch sighed. "What do you think, Colonel?"

"It seems to me that Nimrod is arranging for Morrison's escape regardless of what we do," Hogan said. "And if we do decide to go with this infiltration plan, this may be our only chance to arrange for an escape like this."

"You're considering it?" Newkirk asked. "Just who are you going to send?"

"I'm still working on that," the colonel said. He shook his head and sent another transmission.

" _I will send the message to General Butler that I am willing to send two of my men for this mission, but it will take me at least a week to decide which two men I'll be sending out there_."

" _Fair enough_ ," Nimrod said. " _General Butler will arrange everything with Morrison once you contact him; I will look the other way when everything happens. I wish your men good luck, though based on what I know and have seen of them, I have confidence that they will succeed_."

" _We appreciate that_ ," Hogan responded.

" _And I appreciate all that you have done and continue to do for the Allies and_ …" There was a slight gap in the transmission, and then a hurried two words. " _Nimrod out_."

Hogan blinked, but sighed.

"What happened?" Carter asked, as Hogan pushed the transmitter away.

"He must have had to return to his other identity," Hogan said. "But it still leaves us with a very difficult decision to make; we need to figure out who's going to London." His eyes scanned his team, both the core members and the reserves. "This is no pleasure trip; you'll be on an active, dangerous mission for an unknown amount of time. If this Spider Web primed Williams for his sadistic quest for vengeance, then it's not too difficult to imagine what they'd do if they uncover our spy's identity.

"However," he continued, before the men could jump in and volunteer, as he knew they would. "We are not going to discuss that today—or tomorrow, for that matter. After everything we've been through, I am ordering that we'll be on a much-needed rest for the next two days. And that means that we will not be discussing volunteers for that amount of time. Baker, you'll be in charge of the radio; only reply to messages that are top priority. LeBeau, you're only going to be cooking either extremely basic meals, or nothing at all."

LeBeau opened his mouth to protest, but quickly decided against it; he was too weary to argue, and expected he would be too weary to cook anything elaborate, anyway—though he would never admit it.

Newkirk said nothing, but drew an arm around the Frenchman's shoulders.

"Now, I want everyone out of these tunnels and resting back up in the barracks. Baker, I'd like to see you up there with us for as long as possible."

"Yes, Sir," the sergeant said, and he got up to join the others as they got to their feet and headed up the ladder and into the barracks.

Hogan was lagging behind. Even though he had said that he needed a week to decide who was going to London and that they would discuss volunteers after two days, deep down, he knew exactly who he was going to send; Olsen was the only one familiar with infiltration tactics that the colonel could possibly spare—he still needed Newkirk's thieving skills, LeBeau's cooking distractions, and Carter's impersonations and munitions knowledge. As for Olsen's contact, it would have to be either Kinch or Baker; they would know how to keep in contact best. And knowing Kinch, he would not let the younger, less experienced Baker go on such a dangerous endeavor, even if it meant giving up his place as second in command of the Unsung Heroes. And there was nothing else that could be done; as Nimrod said, they did have to deal with this Spider Web network now.

But, for now, the colonel would keep it out of his mind for the next two days, following his own orders and taking a well-deserved rest. They had survived this ordeal; there ought to be a gap between this and the next ordeal—one that they would, hopefully, get through, no matter where they were.

* * *

Meanwhile, in his private quarters, Klink was patiently waiting for Schultz to leave him alone; the sergeant had come to give him a glass of warm milk to help him sleep, and had ended up trying to get his own troubles off of his chest, somehow slipping in a request for a furlough every couple minutes. Eventually, Klink granted him a three-day pass, which Schultz gratefully accepted; he was soon out the door, getting ready to leave.

Now alone, Klink headed to a far corner of his quarters, turning a panel in the wall to reveal a radio transmitter, beside which rested the information he had taken from the wax museum. He considered using the radio again for a moment, and then turned the panel around to conceal it and the papers. Hogan would have likely left his radio by now; Schultz had distracted him for quite a while, after all.

Besides, Klink knew he had given the American colonel a lot to think about; it wasn't going to be easy for him, letting two of his men go, and to a dangerous mission, yet. But if anyone could pull off unraveling the Spider Web, it would be Hogan's men.

Klink now crossed to his liquor cabinet, blinking as he took note that a bottle of schnapps was missing—again. Well, Newkirk deserved it; it had seemed that he had been the most exhausted from the fight.

Shaking his head, Klink poured himself a small drink and raised his glass slightly.

 _To you and your men, Papa Bear. And to success in your next mission, and all those after it_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Nimrod is Klink, at least in my timeline. I was undecided for the longest time, but a couple clues made me decide that it was him—namely a few times he blatantly ignored clues in front of his face, a time he told Schultz to warn the Heroes that Burkhalter was doing a radio check, and the fact that he has, on more than one occasion, addressed Hogan as "My dear Colonel," which is how Nimrod started his note in "The Missing Klink." Coincidence?  
> Also, regarding Hogan selecting Kinch and Olsen for the Spider Web mission… that was my way of explaining Kinch's absence in the sixth season. And as far as Olsen goes, the fact that "Lt. Mills" from the "Easy Come, Easy Go" sixth season episode was played by Olsen's actor, I've always wanted to consider that "Mills" was really Olsen in my headcanon. It's a stretch, I know, but it does set the stage for a possible spin-off fic about Olsen and Kinch on the Spider Web mission in London, which I just might write if there is enough interest for it.


End file.
